Standing Up
by Tomorrow's Hero
Summary: After the death of his master, vigilante hero Haimawari Kouichi only intended to step into his shoes and help the people that the real heroes couldn't see. However, a botched operation yields attention and justice... and a job offer from U.A. Acting as a teacher's assistant in lieu of prison, Kouichi finds a new path - one leading to the dream he'd long thought he'd lost out on.
1. The Cleaner's Final Night

**So for those not in the know, there's a spinoff to _My Hero Academia_ called _MHA: Illegals_ , revolving around a trio of characters acting as unofficial heroes to clean up the streets and satisfy their own interests. The main character of that story is the MC here. Since the timeline between the two series is still ambiguous, I'm saying that _Illegals_ (and therefore, this prologue) takes place about three years prior to the main series, which fits my purposes nicely. **

**Fair warning, this story's going to be a lot of the original series through the eyes of another character, especially in the beginning. Things will deviate down the line as Kouichi starts doing his own thing - how much, I'm not sure yet. In the meantime, I'm working on ways to make things more interesting; you're probably going to see more of the minor characters here, especially the teachers.**

 **I'm actually really excited to write this; _My Hero Academia_ is my favorite manga, and one of my favorite anime. I'm hoping I can do a story like this justice, and create something truly enjoyable. **

**I own nothing that doesn't belong to me. Horikoshi does a better job with it than I ever could.**

 **Prologue**

 **The Cleaner's Final Night**

 _If you were to say, "everyone is special", then that simply means that "being special is normal"._

oOoOo

It wasn't supposed to go like this. There weren't supposed to be any serious problems during a routine patrol. Even if there were, him and Master could handle it (and maybe Pop, if she was around).

No matter how many times Kouichi forced those words through his head, what lay in front of him didn't change. It was the middle of the night, the moon hanging high above in the starless sky. They'd been jumped from the shadows of a nearby alleyway by some low-level thugs. It shouldn't have been anything Master couldn't handle with help.

Then another one that the two of them hadn't seen pulled out the Trigger and jammed it into their neck. Suddenly, they were vibrating through the alleyway at ludicrous speed, sweeping away the unconscious forms of their compatriots and rushing toward Kouichi and Knuckle-Duster with a manic glint in their eyes.

Kouichi remembered being thrown aside like a stray soda can and hitting the ground hard. He couldn't move as pain and nausea erupted through him and he fought back the urge to be sick. He forced his head to turn, and saw Master surrounded on changing sides by the mad blur. It struck at Knuckle-Duster from one angle, then changed to another and another, so quickly that the blows may as well have been coming all at once.

As Master weathered the assault, Kouichi tried to sit up, and the world spun as his head pounded. He pressed as much of himself against the ground as he could and felt his Quirk come alive, ready to send him where he needed to be. Kouichi chose a direction – he was pretty sure he could hear Master and the thug fighting over there – and began to slide that way. Perhaps he could trip up the thug and give Master an opening.

He felt something wet against his forehead and realized that he was bleeding. He ignored it; Master was in danger.

Knuckle-Duster continued to take his opponent's punches without retaliating. The old man was certainly tough, but despite his disciplined physique (and his damn near sociopathic love of fighting), even he couldn't survive anything. It was almost alien to Kouichi, the thought of Master's impending doom. At times he seemed less a human and more a god of combat or force of nature, the way he defeated foes that seemed impossible for any civilian to take down while remaining in one piece.

And he was even Quirkless. When he'd revealed that part of himself to Kouichi, he'd seemed touchy about it, almost angry when Kouichi tried to probe. Maybe he'd thought that his protégé would think less of him somehow, but the opposite was the actual truth. Kouichi had already known a few Quirkless people before meeting Knuckle-Duster. He hadn't been close with any of them, but he'd seen how others tended to treat them like they were freaks for lacking something that, for most people, hardly made a difference in life.

He'd actually thought it ironic. In this era of superpowers, of "special" people, suddenly those who had once been considered normal were the outcasts. Kouichi had heard some people call it karma for how people with Quirks had once been treated, but frankly that was stupid. Even if they weren't all equal, people were still people.

And even without a Quirk, Master had the brazen desire to make a difference in the way that everyone else said that he couldn't. Far from shameful, Kouichi thought that Knuckle-Duster was among the most noble people he'd ever met.

In his own way, anyway.

And now he stood, helpless but for Kouichi's oncoming aid, the possibility of death lingering closer than Kouichi dared to think about. Through the storm of barehanded blows, Master caught Kouichi's eye… then smiled, and launched an errant punch to his right.

The blurred thug dodged the attack with ease and ran back to the left in front of Knuckle-Duster. As Kouichi slid into position directly in front of his master, the thug's foot caught on his body and a sharp pain ripped through his side as he flipped up into the air – along with the thug, a stick figure of a man whose eyes bulged outward like a cartoon as he flailed his limbs about. Knuckle-Duster surged forward and, having already reared a mighty arm back, struck the midair thug with a punch that reverberated with a loud crack.

As Kouichi fell back to the earth, the no-longer-a-blur thug sailed through the air and struck the stone wall of the alleyway, cracking the wall and collapsing to the ground. Kouichi had no doubts whatsoever that he wouldn't be moving for a long while.

Master panted and rubbed his bruised jaw, apparently satisfied for the moment. "Took you long enough to get over here," he said, staring down at Kouichi. "I thought I'd have to handle him alone. Might have been a real challenge."

Kouichi looked up at Master, triumphant once more. "That guy caught me off-guard," he complained. His head had started to pound again, and he felt woozy. "I think I have a concussion now."

Master barked a reedy-sounding laugh. "Concussion? I learned to walk those off ages ago. Shouldn't be any trouble for-" Suddenly, Knuckle-Duster stopped, his face contorted in pain. He coughed, and blood spurted from his mouth.

Then he coughed again – more blood.

Kouichi's heart skipped a beat. "Master?"

"Ergh… son of a-" Knuckle-Duster coughed out more red gunk, and blood began to trickle from his mouth. "He went… right through me," he rasped. He pulled up his shirt with shaking arms, revealing a battered, bruised torso… and growing patches of red underneath the skin.

"Master!" Kouichi gasped. What… what happened? Master should have been able to take those blows! Kouichi had seen him do it before! And that thug had been skin and bones – he shouldn't have been able to-

But he didn't need to hit hard. Kouichi's innards froze. It wasn't a matter of force; that thug had been vibrating at super speed, but Master was still too tough to be beaten to death.

So he'd vibrated his attacks _through_ the outer layers of Master's body… and into the organs beneath.

"Can't believe… the dumb luck," Knuckle-Duster groaned. He collapsed to his knees, struggling against his failing body to remain upright. "I don't… not yet… still have to…" His voice faded into wheezing, and his face, already pained, tightened with an even greater agony.

He fell to the side, and laid still.

Something inside Kouichi broke. "Master!" He cried, pitching himself toward Master, abandoning the splitting pain in his head. He crawled forward like a man with demons biting at his heels, and threw himself over Master's body to look him in the face. The old man's eyes were glossy, and his jaw hung slack. Kouichi dug his hands into Knuckle-Duster's neck to check for a pulse, then pulled back a moment later to struggle with his gloves.

The world swayed, and he fell forward again onto Master's body. The image of his master's corpse filling with blood like a balloon invaded his thoughts, and he jerked around and vomited on the ground next to Knuckle-Duster's head.

Knuckle-Duster's eyes snapped open again, and he grimaced. "C'mon, kid. What're you doing, throwing up at a dying guy? How the hell're you supposed to beat up the bad guys like that?"

Kouichi reeled up, fighting through his blurring vision. "Master… Old Man Knuckle, you're still…"

 _Dying_.

It couldn't be. It _couldn't._ But as Kouichi saw the blood trickling from Master's mouth and felt Master's bloody shirt squish under his fingertips, it became real.

Kouichi scrambled for his phone – it was in one of his pockets, he knew it – but his hands were clumsy and wouldn't move how he needed them to. His head pound, pound, pounded and his vision became hazier. He didn't have _time_ for this. It didn't matter what happened to him; he'd already missed his chance to be a hero. The world would turn without him.

It needed Knuckle-Duster.

From somewhere far away, Kouichi heard himself sob and thrust his hands back toward where he thought his pockets were, but then a strong pair of hands clasped him by the shoulders and shook him once, hard. He looked up and saw Knuckle-Duster, still so clear despite Kouichi's blurring sight.

For the first time Kouichi had ever seen, his master looked sad.

"Hey…" Knuckle-Duster said, almost sounding gentle. He wheezed for several seconds, then looked into Kouichi's eyes again. "You're gonna be… fine. I taught you better'n to die in an alley with the garbage." He made a choking sound that might have been laughter. "Shit, this wasn't… how I was hoping to go. Had a lot more I needed to do first…" He grew quiet, as though considering something, then refocused on Kouichi. "There's a… a lot more bad guys out there, kid. Beat 'em up for… for Old Man Knuckle, you hear me?"

Kouichi's mouth opened and he might have said something, and then the world swayed again, more violently, and then there was only darkness.

oOoOo

 _The_ _ **real**_ _"special" people can do things like… fly through the sky! Or dominate villains with incredible strength! Or run from one place to another at super speeds!_

 _And they have perfect smiles (eh, not really)._

 _They're in a world completely above the rest of us. All that an ordinary loser like me can do is look up at them with respect and awe._

 _At least, that's what I always thought…_

oOoOo

Through empty dreams, Kouichi felt himself drifting back into consciousness. A bolt of lingering pain sliced through his head and catapulted him the rest of the way into reality. He jerked upward, momentarily confused as the events from earlier that night returned in bits and pieces. He and Master had been patrolling, and they'd stumbled upon a Trigger junkie among a gang of other thugs. The junkie had sent him flying, and he'd struck his head – that explained the pain. It had faded during his rest, but it still made him wince.

The junkie had been beating up Master, but Master had gained the upper hand and taken him out. Then… Knuckle-Duster had collapsed? That didn't sound right; the old man wouldn't have gone down to a goon, even if they had Triggered beforehand.

Kouichi reached back with a clumsy hand to search for his phone (why did that seem familiar?), and he felt his other hand press down into something wet and cold. He pulled back and felt himself shift against whatever he'd been lying upon. It was rough and smelled familiar, like cigarette smoke, alcohol, and blood. The kind of smells that made his nose burn.

The smell of blood was strongest, an unusual metallic sweetness that Kouichi had become well-acquainted with over the past months. Ever since Master had entered his life.

And whatever Kouichi was resting against smelled oddly like the old man.

The pieces of Kouichi's memory fell together, and he remembered what had happened. He knew why it smelled so much like Knuckle-Duster, and why there was so much blood.

"Master!" Kouichi cried, pulling himself back onto his master's prone form. He tried to ignore the squishing sound that pressing against the old man's bloody shirt made, and fished around for Knuckle-Duster's face to rip the old guy's mask off. He pulled out his phone (finally) and held the bright screen to the man's face.

He looked peaceful, and that was confusing, because Master _never_ looked so serene. He was always severe, with gritted teeth, a furrowed brow, and a frown that only vacated its place to a malicious grin when a fight was imminent or underway. That was the Knuckle-Duster that Kouichi knew.

His eyes never looked so empty, so devoid of the flame that consumed him and everyone around him in all of his waking moments. And Kouichi had never before seen him smiling.

"Hey, wake up, Master," Kouichi said. His voice sounded so small. "Master, we've got to get help. You've been hurt. Come on, get up, Master." Almost without realizing, he reached out and placed a hand on Master's face. He felt cold. Was that Kouichi's gloves, making him feel less warm? Kouichi brought a hand to his mouth and bit down on a finger; he might have bitten his own finger, but he didn't notice. He pressed his bare hand against Master's forehead.

Still cold – so, so cold.

"You're… you're going to get sick, Master," Kouichi mumbled. His voice thickened as he spoke, and his vision began to swim. "Master, you can't… you can't be…" His words gave out, replaced by a low cry.

He took in a ragged breath, and as his tears fell, he let out a much louder cry. He fell against his master's chest and screamed his agony into the lifeless shell, as though that was enough to bring it back to life.

He didn't know if anyone could hear him, and he didn't know how much of the night he spent screaming his newfound pain into the world, but nobody found him there in that dark and empty alleyway. Nobody knew he was there.

Nobody cared.

oOoOo

 _Master found me in that lonely back alley, and showed me that I could fly higher. Admittedly, my first takeoff was pretty lame…_

 _But it's because of him that I got to visit that higher world, where the real heroes are. Even if it was just a glimpse at a time, it felt good. What's that saying, that I didn't know I was starving until I'd tasted it?_

 _It was all because of Master. So… what now?_

 _Several months isn't necessarily a bad run. I got to help some people, take down some bad guys (kinda…), and make a bit of a name for myself. Maybe that's enough for The Crawler._

 _Maybe I'm not really meant to soar through the sky, where people can look up at me and smile. Maybe my place is down below, crawling around in the places beneath everyone else. I've always been good at that._

 _I mean, really, who'd want to look up at someone like me?_

oOoOo

' _A man lacking identification, roughly fifty years of age, was found deceased in an alleyway on the north side of Musutafu. Cause of death has been speculated to be a Quirk-related incident. If anyone has any information, please contact…'_

Kouichi chucked the paper across his apartment in disgust. _A man_ … that was all that they called him. They hadn't even bothered to find Master's name before writing about him. Part of Kouichi was honestly disappointed – he'd always been curious as to his master's identity, but the old man had always waved it off as unimportant.

Even so, it would have been nice to have something to remember him by.

They'd included a picture, and Kouichi didn't want to know how they got it. He hated the idea of them standing over Master's corpse with a camera, taking a picture of him like he was just a thing to be catalogued. He'd toyed with the idea of calling in and providing information, but it would have been too much of a hassle explaining everything.

Kouichi sighed and looked around his apartment. It was becoming filthy, since he hadn't bothered to clean any of it over the past week. Pop Step had stopped by a couple of days after he'd holed himself up inside, demanding to know where the two of them had been because some run-ins with fans had gotten a bit carried away and she wanted her security by her side.

To her credit, she'd seemed genuinely sorry when Kouichi told her what had happened. He couldn't remember what else had happened between them, but he recalled her shouting at him about how pathetic he was being and then leaping out through his window, so apparently it hadn't gone well.

He didn't really care what she thought of him. He wasn't in the mood to care about much right now.

But then again, he'd gotten several screaming calls from his boss demanding that he come in for work, and homework was bound to be piling up from the classes he'd so wisely decided to skip, so maybe it was time to rethink that whole apathy bender.

He sat off, shaking off his crusty bedsheets, and started to sort out the trash that he'd allowed to sublet his place (the nerve of it, thinking it didn't have to pay rent). After gathering it into a few piles, Kouichi reached under his bed to grab a garbage bag.

His fingers brushed something made of fabric, and he tried not to wince. He hadn't been able to look at his hoodie the same way ever since that night. Instead, he'd stuffed it under his bed and tried to act like it never existed – and he'd almost succeeded.

No, he couldn't let his life shut down because he was in mourning anymore. That wasn't what responsible adults did. Kouichi gripped the garment and pulled it out, holding it up to look at it. It was made of surprisingly good fabric, largely blue, with red and white on the arms and down the front, and yellow on the fringes of the hood.

Yep, that was All Might's design. He'd been so happy when his parents had bought it as a present for entering high school – and, he'd later realized, as sort of a consolation prize in lieu of being admitted to a real high school for heroics. To be fair, he _had_ been moping something fierce.

Just for old time's sake, Kouichi slipped the hoodie on. It felt exactly like he remembered; he almost thought he was back on streets, darting between legs and down alleyways to find people in need. Knuckle-Duster may have thought that beating up villains felt good, but for Kouichi the true euphoria rested in the faces of everyone whose lives he made a little better. They were truly the best of times.

He fought back the tears that welled up. Those days had been wonderful, but they couldn't last. Kouichi had other things to focus on now: getting his studies back on track, making sure he still had a job (a crummy one, but it was something). As a child, he'd wanted to be a hero over anything else, but that wasn't his thing. By Master's side, it was a different story, but Kouichi wasn't sure he could handle the responsibilities alone.

He'd had his time to fly, but now he was back on the ground. He needed to stay there. It was what a responsible adult would do.

But standing there, reminiscing in that All Might hoodie, Kouichi didn't feel like he wanted his time to be done.

…

…

Oh, to Hell with being a responsible adult. It'd be there for him later.

Kouichi ran to his dresser, pulled on his protective gear, and hurled himself out the door. The city was his to patrol, and there was bound to be somebody in need of aid.

oOoOo

 _Not everyone can become a hero. Reality isn't that kind._

 _I've known that for a while, but when I met Master, he made me believe that maybe the world was wrong about that._

 _I still don't know what's right and what's wrong, and without Master, things are going to be difficult from now on._

 _But even if I can't soar through the air like a real hero can, and be met with the adoring faces of everyone down below, I can still stay close to the ground. While everyone else is busy looking up, I can help people who are down below like me. People who are too far away for the real heroes to see. Who everyone else looking up refuses to look down upon._

 _I know what it's like, and I've always been pretty good at staying low. Even if that's all I can do – as Gentle-Man, The Crawler, or just Haimawari Kouichi – then I guess I have to do it anyway._

 _For Master._

 **And so, we begin. Here's to a new adventure.**

 **Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	2. Haimawari Kouichi: The Origin

**Hey, everybody. Been a while, huh? I hope none of you were too worried that I'd given up on this story just yet. I blame my verbose writing tendencies and my inability to decide what qualifies as "too long."**

 **Incidentally, for anyone who's already into this (and I can't thank you enough, all you people), which would you prefer: infrequent updates with longer chapters, or more frequent updates with shorter chapters? It's something I've been debating for a little while, since the sheer length of this chapter - at least, relative to my usual length - is part of why it too so long to finish. I can't promise I'll go with the majority opinion, since in the end I need to do,** **first and foremost** **, what's best for me, but I'm curious to hear what your input is.**

 **Chapter One**

 **Haimawari Kouichi: The Origin**

 _4:37._

Kouichi's phone lit up with the time. He sighed. His informants were supposed to meet him here outside the Café Laque almost ten minutes ago, not that he should have been surprised. Those three would always rather do their own thing than show up on time. Three years hadn't done a thing to change that.

A waitress came by his table and set down a large plastic cup, filled with coffee and brandishing the proud, chibified visage of Kamui Woods on the side, undoubtedly a product of their recent sponsorship deal. Kouichi smiled as she left and took a sip, wincing as the hot liquid seared his tongue to rubber. He'd been so focused on the meeting that was supposed to be going on that the heat hadn't crossed his mind.

At the exact moment he stuck his tongue out to air it, someone spoke up from behind him. "You gotta wait for it to cool first, boss. This place makes it real hot." Two young men, both looking exceptionally old for high school juniors, walked up side by side from behind Kouichi. One of them, a grizzly-looking boy wearing a cap and jacket, flopped down into a chair. The other, a taller boy wearing a uniform and a thin visor, stood nearby.

"Lemme try," said the boy with the visor. He snatched Kouichi's cup of coffee and drained much of it in a single gulp before the vigilante could bother to complain, then let out a yell. "Yeah, that's burning hot! I can feel it! My soul's never boiled like this before!" With another shout, he fired a brilliant beam of light into the air from his visor.

The other boy shot out of his seat before Kouichi could react and slugged his friend in the face, dropping him like a stone. "Dumbass! We're gonna get in trouble 'cause of you! Keep it to yourself, wouldja?!" He snapped.

The boy with the visor glowered, but said nothing. He knew he'd been beaten, apparently.

Kouichi sighed, trying to ignore the looks and whispers of everyone around. "Samazu, Namimaru-"

"Hey, where's Po-Haneyama?" Namimaru said, dropping Samazu to the ground. "Didn't she say she'd be here?"

"She's late again," Kouichi said. "Kind of like the two of you."

"Not our fault," Samazu said, standing back up. "Had to stay after class and make up some test I bombed. I think Namimaru had detention, too."

"Sounds like high school's tough for you two," Kouichi replied.

"Yeah, it's rough," Namimaru agreed. "Buncha teachers throwin' shit at ya like 'responsibility' and 'jobs.' How the hell's a man supposed to live with stuff like that weighin' on him?"

The two boys looked at Kouichi, who realized after a moment that they were expecting an answer from him. All he could offer was, "College doesn't get much better, honestly."

Before they could respond to _that_ , a plain and acerbic-looking girl walked up to his table and took a seat. "Hey, you've got nerve calling me on short-notice. I had actual plans today, and a coffee shop wasn't a part of them!" Through her thick glasses, she fixed Kouichi with a burning glare.

Samazu and Namimaru were in her face before Kouichi could reply. "Pop-Haneyama! I'm real happy you're here!" Samazu gushed. "Could you maybe sign something for me?"

Namimaru shoved him aside. "Get outta her face, you're crowding her! Haneyama, I haven't seen you for so long! You doing okay?"

Haneyama slipped off her glasses and giggled, slipping into her idol persona in an instant. "I'm just fine, but thanks for being so worried!" A way-too-cutesy voice bubbled out of her mouth. "I've been busy working on my show, and I've missed you two so much! What would you like signed?"

If Namimaru and Samazu had been excited before, now they practically trampled each other handing her their textbooks to be autographed.

Off to the side, Kouichi sipped what was left of his drink. It was still hot, but he could bear it enough to swallow. "It's not a bad coffee shop. Personally, I think they went a little overboard with the Kamui Woods stuff, but otherwise it's kinda-"

"That's not the point, you moron!" The girl snapped, as though her cutesy act from moments ago had never happened. "I have better things to do than hang out with you when you're lonely! Don't you have any other friends your age?!" Upon Kouichi's sulking response, she grimaced. "No one? Really? God, how pathetic can you be?"

"Hang on, didn't you say your classmates hate you 'cause you're some kind of creeper?" Namimaru asked. He folded his arms across his chest. "That oughta put a damper on your social life."

"Yeah, but what're you gonna do?" Samazu shrugged. "You don't just get over shit like that. It stays with you. Frankly, boss, if you're looking for friends, you might wanna just move. Get a clean slate in another city. It'd be a nice way to expand your horizons."

"But what if someone from his university's in his new city, too?" Namimaru replied. "And they told people about him? Then everybody in the new city'd know, too."

Samazu growled in frustration. "What're you saying? He should figure out where everyone from his university lives, so he can move somewhere else? Japan's big and all, but-"

"It doesn't matter!" Kouichi shouted. "Being a-" He stopped, then lowered his voice. "Being a hero doesn't leave much time for friends, anyway. I've been busy keeping an eye out for anything suspicious going on. It's a full-time job."

Haneyama glowered at him. "Oh? So you've been keeping your ears close to the ground?"

"I'm always down there anyway, it's not hard," Kouichi remarked, taking another small sip of his coffee.

"Hey, that's kinda poetic," Samazu chimed in. "Because you're like a cockroach, right?"

"Anyway, have you found anything yet?" Haneyama asked, keeping the conversation from spiraling away again. "Besides more perverts and purse snatchers?"

"I helped take down the guys dealing Trigger, didn't I?" Kouichi replied. That had been a real turning point in his career – the way his constant small efforts in taking down junkies and leaving his calling cards for the real heroes had led them up the chain to the suppliers.

He could still remember watching on the news as All Might, flanked by another small group of heroes, descended like divine judgement upon their base of operations and rooted out the assholes who'd been causing so much trouble around the city – around the country, as it had turned out. The stations couldn't stop talking about it for weeks, and Kouichi had even been mentioned a few odd times in magazines and on TV. They still had no idea who he was, and the thought of being a mystery in the public eye was exhilarating.

Kouichi chuckled, lost within his happy reverie. "What else?" Haneyama asked, unimpressed.

Kouichi blinked, coming back to reality. "What do you mean, 'what else?' That was a big victory for The Crawler!"

"The Crawler?" She asked. "That's funny. Didn't the talking heads on TV call you 'The Waller'? Or 'The Faller'? 'The Dollar'?"

"Alright, I get it!" Kouichi snapped. He had to admit, that 'Dollar' nickname had been rough to hear. He'd sulked for days. "So no one knows who I really am. I'm a man of mystery." He puffed out his chest with pride.

"More like without a clue," the idol said, deflating him right back down.

"So what? You just gotta find some more bad guys to catch, and everyone'll remember you again in no time, right?" Samazu asked.

"'Course, you moron! That's why we're here, ain't it?" Namimaru snapped, then turned to Kouichi. "It is, right?"

Kouichi sighed. "Yeah, it is. It's time for The Crawler to hunt down some more villains, and I need my informants. So, what do you guys have for me?"

His informants all looked at each other, then back at Kouichi – Haneyama looked annoyed, while the boys seemed sheepish. "Boss, you know we got lives, right?" Samazu said. "We gotta lot of our own stuff to handle. Y'know, dealin' with our folks, keepin' ourselves from flunking outta school, looking for-"

"We're busy!" Haneyama snapped. "You think I've got time to worry about you when I've got performances to plan? Performances that _you've_ stopped working security for? Get over yourself!" She turned away in a huff. "I've got better things to do than help you play hero!"

Kouichi fell silent, bearing a blank look upon his face… then he gritted his teeth and without warning slammed his hands on the table, making his informants jump. "I'm – _not_ – playing!" Kouichi snapped. He rose to his feet, glaring down at Haneyama. "I'm doing what Master told me to do with his dying breath! He's not around to help anymore, so now it's just me, and I won't ever forgive you for making fun of him and what he believed in!"

Silence fell around the café porch. Haneyama tried and failed to suppress her shock and fear behind a mask of irritation. Samazu and Namimaru didn't try to hide their dumbfounded faces. The people seated at the tables nearby stared once again. First Samazu's light show, and now this – Kouichi wasn't sure he'd be welcome back after today. It had been such a nice café, too.

It was Namimaru who found the will to break the silence. "Uh, boss? I mighta heard something." His eyes flicked around, looking everywhere except toward Kouichi. "See, I was… cutting class a couple days ago to hit the arcade," he admitted. "I heard some people talking in the corner, and one of 'em was saying something 'bout a meeting at, uh…" He recited an address. "I dunno-"

"Hang on," Kouichi interrupted, pulling out his phone. "Can you say that address again?"

"Oh, sure," Namimaru replied, then repeated the address while Kouichi put it into his phone. "I dunno what's going down, but it's s'pposed to happen tonight 'round dusk, and they sounded freaked. Seemed kind of shady, so I thought I'd tell you, boss."

Kouichi stared down at the address he'd written into his phone. It was located somewhere in a district on the edge of the city, somewhere Kouichi wasn't overly familiar with. He did some math in his head; it would take him a while to get out there before dusk, and he'd need to stop by his apartment first to prepare. Kouichi looked up to ask Namimaru for more information, but he and Samazu were already in each other's face, yelling about skipping class and 'going straight.' Kouichi hoped they'd refrain from using their Quirks – he really wanted to be able to return to this café.

Sensing that the meeting was pretty much over, Kouichi rose out of his seat. At the same time, Haneyama mimicked him. "You're seriously going through with this?" She asked. "Just because the kid with the swords told you something might be happening tonight?"

"Yeah, I trust him," Kouichi said. "Besides, if there's someone who needs my help, then I wouldn't feel good about not helping them." He smiled. "It's something I need to do, and I think I'm pretty good at it. It's kind of like you and your singing."

The girl looked surprised for a moment – maybe even touched – but then it was gone and she was angry again. "Don't lump my idol career in with your crap! I've got actual fans, in case you've forgotten, and that's more than you'll ever-hey, where are you going?!" She yelled as Kouichi turned and walked away.

"Got some work to do!" He called back over his shoulder. Once he got back to his apartment, he'd need to look over that address and figure out what to prepare for tonight. (And get his chores down, of course. Being a vigilante was no excuse for bad housekeeping.)

oOoOo

As Kouichi slid down the empty road, he pulled out his phone to reconfirm the address that Namimaru had given him. When he'd run it through his computer, it had spit out the location of an old warehouse near the edge of Musutafu. He was already on his way out there, and had been moving along at a decent speed for around the past forty-five minutes or so, at least whenever he wasn't diving into an alleyway to avoid the headlights of an oncoming car.

After a short while longer, he found the warehouse just as the buildings started to give way to trees and untended land. The rocky parking lot next to it that separated the warehouse from the other buildings was empty, which likely meant that either the people Namimaru had been talking around hadn't arrived yet, or they had and weren't using a car to get around. Either possibility served him well.

Unless they'd already had their meeting and left, but Kouichi chose not to think about that. No, The Crawler _would_ make his comeback tonight. There was no room for doubt. Behind his hockey mask, Kouichi's eyes narrowed into determined slits.

He slid over to the warehouse's towering brown doors and pulled them open just enough to slip through without causing them to grind against their frames and let out any noise. Through the deep green shine of the night vision goggles underneath Kouichi's mask, the warehouse's massive empty interior lit up, revealing thick, concrete pillars holding up a ceiling perhaps fifteen feet high. In the farthest corner, Kouichi could vaguely make out a small group of moving silhouettes shaped like people.

Those must have been his marks. Perfect.

The vigilante slid over to one of the pillars and pressed himself against the side, keeping it between himself and the figures. He peeked out once again, seeing the blurred figures a little more closely. There were four of them: three in a group, and one more a short distance away. One of them – one of the three – was very large, while the other three had more normal statures.

The one standing away from the others looked toward Kouichi, and he pulled back. They must have had a lookout – maybe someone with a night vision Quirk? Kouichi took a breath to steady himself, then inched back toward the edge and slowly looked back out. No one was looking his way anymore. Grateful for the shadow of dusk, he slid over to the next pillar and hid there.

He could almost make out some of what they were saying – words like "collateral" and "go fucking mad" and "get 'em all back". Were they planning some kind of revenge scheme? Kouichi forced his breathing into line and edged out around the pillar as much as he dared. As he did, the lookout swept their head slowly in his direction, and he pulled back swiftly. He didn't think they'd seen him, just that they'd been moving their head back and forth to look around everywhere.

A second later, Kouichi's heartbeat had settled and he peered back around the corner. The lookout's focus was off to the left again, opposite from the pillar to Kouichi's right. That was all he needed to see. He slid across the gap, keeping ahead of the guard's tracking and grateful that his sliding was silent.

"You fucking piece of shit!" One of the thugs bellowed. It was deep and loud and echoed through the warehouse, catching Kouichi unaware. He jerked to the side and felt pain in his shoulder as he struck the corner of the pillar. A groan escaped through his clenched teeth. As he pulled himself the remaining distance to cover, the tirade continued, "You wanna pussy out, you little fuck?! You think you-"

"Oi! Shut it!" Another voice said, also male, not angry like the first but sounding irritated.

The first voice replied. "Don't fuckin' mouth off to me, you-"

"He said be quiet!" A third voice snapped, a third male one to complete the set. It sounded older and authoritative. The third voice continued, probably to the lookout. "Komorito, what is it?"

"Think someone's here," said Komorito. "Thought I saw something, definitely heard something."

Kouichi's blood froze. Despite his training, direct combat had never been a strong point for him. If all four of them tried to jump him, he didn't think he'd make it out intact.

"What? Who?!" A fourth voice cut in. It sounded like a young man, and shook with terror. He started shouting, "Is someone here? Please, save me! These people-"

He was cut off by a loud _THUD_ , and Kouichi heard a weak groan from around the pillar. "Next time, weasel bitch, I'll break your fuckin' spine!" The first voice roared.

"Kabu!" The older man shouted. "I told you not to hurt him, you idiot! We need him alive, and _conscious_!" The way he spat the last word gave Kouichi a pretty clear indicator of what had happened. "Komorito! Go see if anyone's here who shouldn't be. Hurry up!"

Komorito hummed in assent, and Kouichi heard footsteps approaching his pillar. He fought down panic and took stock of his options. He could fight, perhaps pick them off one at a time from the shadows like in a video game. That wouldn't be too hard, right?

Nope, that wouldn't work. Even without the ache in his left shoulder – which was giving way to numbness – Kouichi lacked the finesse he'd need to dispatch of them silently. Besides, he doubted he had more than a handful of seconds to prepare. He could already hear Komorito's footsteps growing louder, as well as a low, constant whistle. Was that an aspect of the man's Quirk – some kind of echolocation, maybe?

Kouichi snuck a glance around the other side. Now that he was closer, he could see the other three people in more detail. One laid face-up on the ground, unmoving – the one Kabu struck down. The other two argued nearby; the normal-looking one must have been the older man, while the massive one gesturing furiously and polluting the air with obscenities must have been Kabu. And as was Kouichi's luck, Kabu was facing the direction Kouichi would be moving across to the next pillar.

Even if he could make it across, Kouichi belatedly thought, that didn't Komorito wouldn't look around and spot him regardless.

That left Kouichi with two other options: diving out the windows some distance behind him… or going up. As the whistling and footsteps grew louder, Kouichi glanced upward. Hanging above him, embedded in the rotting ceiling fifteen feet up, was an exposed pipe. He could grab that, hang from it until Komorito left, and then drop down and continue onward. It was worth trying.

But he'd need to go up the pillar to reach the ceiling. And to do that without falling off, he'd need momentum. There wasn't much time until the lookout reached Kouichi's hiding place, so he'd only have one chance, with unfavorable odds.

Not for the first time, Kouichi kicked himself for even wanting to be a hero. Once he'd finished with that, he took a few small steps back – as far as he dared to go before being spotted – and then launched himself at the pillar, swinging his right arm forward so it hit at the same time as his feet.

With three points of contact on the pillar, Kouichi felt himself cling to it slightly as the repellent force kicked in. Applying as much speed to the slide as he dared, he shot straight up toward the pipe. After around a second of sliding, at about ten feet up the wall, Kouichi felt himself lurch backward as his momentum gave. He grit his teeth, and with one great surge of adrenaline he kicked off the pillar to propel himself a little higher. The pipe rested only a few feet away from him now, and he shot his right arm out toward it – his left arm merely flailed, still numb at the shoulder.

His fingers brushed against the pipe, and in one horrible moment Kouichi fell. He let out a strained gasp as the pipe drew farther away, then turned his gaze downward toward the floor.

And also toward Komorito, who had moved to the point directly underneath him and looked up at the vigilante falling toward him with what Kouichi could only imagine was utter shock. Kouichi fell on top of the other man and rode him to the ground. Komorito's head struck the concrete with a loud crack, and he fell still. Kouichi was relatively unharmed.

That… was an interesting outcome. Still, Kouichi had taken out the man searching for him, so who was he to complain?

"The fuck was that?" Kabu growled. Kouichi blanched – now that he thought about it, Komorito had certainly made a loud noise upon impact with the ground. That wasn't good.

"Komorito!" The old man called. "Komorito, answer me! What did you find?" Kouichi heard the old man let out a snarl. "Damn it, somebody's here. We need to go, now."

"You serious?" Kabu said. "That guy was a pussy. Any rookie worth their shit coulda taken him out." A sound like two boulders smashing together cracked through the air. "And here I been, scratching to make some hero bitch bleed. I got this."

"You stupid idiot!" The old man snapped, clearly nearing the end of his rope. "I'm not going to throw this away because your thick skull couldn't take an order! You've already knocked out our informant, I am _not_ allowing you to screw this job anymore!"

"…Oh?" Kabu asked, unfittingly calm. It sent a child down Kouichi's spine. If this were a movie, right now the hired muscle would be just about to…

"Goddamnit, I can't believe I thought you could help me with this! All you've ever done is-"

The old man's voice gave out as the sound of a loud impact sounded from around the pillar. Kouichi had been in enough fights to recognize when someone when had taken a punch, and given Kabu's sheer size, it must have been one hell of one. Kouichi peered around the pillar and saw Kabu's massive form standing over the old man prone on the ground. The old man gasped for air and retched, spewing heaves of liquid onto the floor before falling still.

Kabu spat on the old man's unconscious body. "Serves you right, prick," he growled. The thug looked up and slammed his fists together with another deafening crack. "C'mon out, motherfucker. Got some fightin' in me, and I'm ready to have fun," he called through the dark warehouse, his voice nothing short of gleeful.

Kouichi fought to restart his mind despite the panic that threatened to drown it. He'd started tonight with four bad guys, and now he was down to one – not bad, except the idea of getting beaten into bloody meat had since become imminent and Kouichi made it a principle to avoid such a fate. He took a breath and forced out all of Kabu's bloody promises for his immediate future.

Kabu was coming. Kouichi wasn't sure how to fight him. It was dark in the warehouse. Kouichi didn't know what the thug's Quirk entailed besides being extremely large. If he slid fast enough, he could likely escape through the front door even if Kabu saw him in the process. He'd escaped situations before that were plenty worse than this one. He could do it again, if he wanted to. He really, _really_ wanted to.

Then he thought of the scared civilian he'd heard earlier and the whole thing fell apart. What would Kabu do if he couldn't get a hold of Kouichi? He wouldn't call off the violence in progress, most likely. Thugs like that were more likely to take it out on someone else, someone innocent, and Kabu had more than proven himself to be that kind of person. If that civilian were still nearby...

Unless maybe he could escape with the civilian in tow, and avoid a fight altogether. That sounded like a good option. Thinking quickly, Kouichi stepped back toward the wall, then surged toward the pillar and leaped forward to slide up it once more. This time, with more momentum built up, he could grip the pipe and hold on, curling his legs up toward his body.

Having heard his movement, Kabu quickly moved around the right side of the pillar and found Komorito unconscious on the floor. The massive thug sneered. "Whaddya know, batshit? You really didn't see everything, huh? Serves ya right, you piece of-"

Kouichi's stomach leaped into his mouth as he dropped from the ceiling and flailed his legs toward the villain below. Kabu looked up in shock for a moment, long enough for the spikes on Kouichi's cleats to rake across his face, and he staggered back with an agonized bellow. As Kouichi struck the ground on his back, he slapped his hands against the floor and slid away from the reeling, howling thug, bleeding off momentum and placing valuable distance between them. He slid around one hand to pivot toward the center of the warehouse and then accelerated the other way to stop himself, allowing him to flip over onto his stomach so that he could look around with his goggles. Kabu still staggered around to the right, while the old man and the scared civilian were dead ahead.

Kouichi slid toward the latter two, fighting back nausea as the smell of vomit struck his nostrils. He rose to his feet and slid his mask upward; without the goggles, identifying the two figures was easier. The old man was closer to him, lying on his back. His graying hair and well-pressed suit gave him a dignified air ruined by the vomit staining his front. Kouichi stepped around him to reach the other, a slender man with chestnut hair and a face currently pressed into the concrete.

"Hey, are you okay?" Kouichi asked, jostling the man's arm. He received no response. Quickly, he hauled the other man onto his back and dropped onto his hands and knees. Carrying the unconscious man would be difficult, but Kabu had fallen silent and Kouichi didn't want to waste valuable time to escape. He'd learned soon after going solo that with a power like his, going in with no escape plan was tantamount to walking into a yakuza sting carrying a slingshot. Do what you could, then cut and run when things got too hairy. There was no shame in running if it let you fight another day.

Arms shaking from the burden of the man on his back, Kouichi slid for the door. As it grew nearer, relief blossomed within his chest. He'd psyched himself up for a potentially dangerous operation, but things had turned out alright. Any mission he could walk away from intact was a check mark in his book.

Then something collided with his flank and the check mark disappeared. Pain cut through Kouichi's thoughts as he was knocked to the side. He struck the ground and tumbled over the man on his back – who apparently couldn't catch a break tonight – before landing in a bruised heap. He felt a sharp, focused pain on his left side, though without any blood. Through the darkness, he saw a metal rod rolling away from him.

It must have struck him by the end – after being thrown, possibly. And there was only one other person in the warehouse presently capable of such a feat. Panicked, Kouichi rolled back onto his front and stood up partway before the pain forced him down into a partial crouch. He couldn't tell if anything was broken, and it would be a pain to visit the hospital again.

Kouichi staggered over to the prone man and bent down to lift him back up when another blow to his left side sent him flying further into the warehouse. He struck the concrete floor and bounced twice before rolling to a stop, too shocked to slide away the momentum.

Something large stalked toward his dazed form and lifted him into the air by his midsection. Looking down, Kouichi finally got his first good look at a scarred, _furious_ Kabu. He was built like a tank, easily seven feet tall and four feet broad, with a bare upper body that bulged unnaturally around his right shoulder and left forearm, the latter of which currently gripped the vigilante around his entire torso. Thick, mud brown patches of what appeared to be armor mottled his body, seemingly growing out of his skin. A number of thin, bleeding lines were drawn across his left eye.

Looking at those lines, the idea of what was about to happen weighed down in Kouichi's stomach like a boulder.

"Stupid little pissant," Kabu growled, spitting the words like acid. "Fuckin' pissed me off, I'll rip your fuckin' head off!" His right arm reached up toward Kouichi's head, promising to make good on that threat.

Kouichi screamed, beginning his routine of internally praying for any god listening to get him out of his present fix. The hand, ignorant to such pleading, drew closer. It was massive, and threatened to envelope Kouichi's entire face. He didn't want to think about what damage it could do when it started squeezing – which, of course, meant that that was all he could think about. He grasped it with both hands, trying in vain to shove it away, but it barely slowed.

Kouichi closed his eyes, preparing for the worst.

And then, by instinct, with both hands and his midsection touching one of Kabu's hands, he slid straight up and out of the thug's grasp.

Kouichi opened his eyes, confounded by his sudden weightlessness, and saw Kabu staring up at him, looking even more stunned. Neither of them got a word out before the vigilante fell back to the earth.

The impact jarred Kouichi back into focus, and ignoring the throbbing pain in his side, he dropped to the ground and slid away from the armored villain toward the other side of the warehouse. Kabu roared and thundered after him, but Kouichi swerved to the side as he approached the wall and weaved around a pillar, ducking under Kabu's swinging arm. A plan formed in his mind; it was risky, and Kouichi would have preferred to escape as planned, but his injury meant that leaving with the man who had been harassed would be harder, and Kabu would take advantage of that weakness.

So Kabu had to go down. Kouichi flipped his mask back down over his face and lowered his right elbow to the floor, so that he could lift his right arm to reach into his left sleeve and prepare the laundry wire that he'd coiled up within. With his three points of contact against the ground maintained, Kouichi's slide could continue unperturbed.

He picked up speed and shot through the warehouse like his life depended on it – which it did. He swerved between the pillars on both side, slithering around them to slow Kabu down and ducking under the man's legs as needed. Kouichi had no knowledge of Kabu's endurance, but everybody had limits, no matter how powerful. Even if it took some time, Kabu's fruitless running would tire him out.

Kouichi's sliding, on the other hand, meant that exhaustion was no worry.

After a while, Kabu's enraged cursing began to cut out with the sound of loud panting, and his footfalls became more erratic as exhaustion made him stumble. Kouichi spun around in the middle of the room and risked a glance. Kabu stood off to the side, bent over and leaning against a pillar while taking loud, strained breaths. Kouichi shot sideways until he met the wall and followed it until it brought him around to Kabu's back. He clutched the vinyl-coated laundry wire, coiled into a loop leading back into his sleeve.

As Kouichi neared Kabu from behind, he removed the force between himself and the earth, and before his momentum dipped, he leaped onto Kabu's back and slid the looped wire over the thug's head. As Kabu grunted in shock, the vigilante dropped back to the ground and yanked on the wire.

"Wha-?!" Kabu choked as the loop slid tight around his neck, before his voice gave way to the crackling gasps of strangulation. In a panic, the massive man reached up for his neck to pry off the laundry wire. Kouichi jerked the wire in response, letting out more from his sleeve and stepping away as Kabu stumbled backward. The thug jerked his head around as his choked cries began to die, but Kouichi's stance was wide enough to keep him rooted.

Finally, Kabu's strangled protests faded away, and Kouichi hurriedly released the wire. The giant plunged forward and lay still. Kouichi stumbled forward and knelt near the fallen man's head, ripping off a glove and pressing his fingers into his neck. It wasn't until the vigilante found a pulse that he felt himself exhale and realized that his own breath had been kept still.

"Okay… we're good," Kouichi mumbled to himself, collapsing into a seated position. That was… honestly, that had gotten really out of hand. When he'd decided to look up some basic knots and start bringing wire along on his patrols, he'd only meant to use it to tie up things and maybe people if he had the need. He'd never considered its uses as a tool for garroting people; he wasn't sure he wanted situations like this to be a regular occurrence.

He _and_ Kabu were lucky the wire was pretty thick – if Kouichi had used thinner wire, he might have accidentally decapitated the other man or severed something in his neck. Being a vigilante was one thing, but Kouichi wasn't sure he could live with himself if he became a murderer as well.

Kouichi's mind slowly rebooted, and he remembered why he'd come to the warehouse in the first place. He looked up and spotted the man he'd tried to rescue earlier, still lying near the door. Kouichi sighed with relief; everything else about this mission had been a mess, but at least he'd saved somebody. He ran over to the prone man's side and pulled out his phone, then lifted his mask and dialed the number for emergency services. He spent the next few minutes giving the people on the other end as much information as he dared – the location of the warehouse, and the four men unconscious within – and lying about the rest. As long as he was gone by the time the ambulances arrived, it didn't matter how he'd stumbled onto the scene.

Once the call was completed, Kouichi hung up and pulled out a few zip-tie handcuffs from his belt and wandered around the warehouse to cuff everyone – just a precaution in case someone came to before the ambulances came. He cuffed Komorito first, who was still lying on the floor by the pillar where Kouichi had fallen on him, then moved on to Kabu – it took a few sets of cuffs linked together to connect his wrists, and even then Kouichi was nervous – and finally turned toward the old man who had attempted to be the ringleader.

And who was presently staggering toward the warehouse door, grasping his stomach. "Hey, hold it!" Kouichi shouted, dropping down and sliding to place himself between the man and his escape route. The vigilante stood and thrust an arm forward, finger outstretched in a suitably heroic pose. "Don't think you can get away from me so easily! Do you have any idea who I am? I'm the-"

"What are you doing?! Move!" The old man shouted, pained face twisting with rage. "I don't… urgh, have time to waste on a hero reject!"

Kouichi's eyes widened behind his mask. "You – How dare you?! I'm the master of shadows and feller of unseen parasites! I'm The Crawler!" Kouichi shouted, squatting into a three-point pose. "I don't know what you and your goons were up to with that poor man, but I've disposed of them both and help is on the way, so please come quietly!"

The old man stared at Kouichi in silence, then swore and charged forward. Kouichi slid forward to meet him and rammed his shoulder into the man's legs, sending him sprawling onto the floor. The vigilante then reversed course, spinning around and jumping onto the fallen man. "I thought I told you to come quietly! Did you honestly think you could escape from me?" Kouichi fumbled around with his belt, reaching for another pair of cuffs, when the man reared up with his elbow and drove into the side of Kouichi's head. Stars danced in his vision as he reeled back, enough for the man underneath him to crawl free.

"Shut up…" The man growled. "Do you know… who I am?! I'm… not going to jail because-" He groaned. "Because of street trash like you! I'd rather kill myself!"

Before Kouichi could reply, the man slammed both hands against the floor and let out a roar. A cascade of loud cracks echoed from beneath his fingers as the ground around him fractured like a spider web. The cracks shot underneath Kouichi's feet and he stumbled, falling to the ground as the cracks spread further. They arced to either side of the warehouse, then further divided as they drew toward the pillars.

"What are you doing?" Kouichi cried. "You'll kill us all!"

The old man did not reply, but looked back at Kouichi with utter disgust. As cornered as he was, death apparently wasn't a bad alternative to whatever else was coming to him.

Sounds like gunshots ripped through the air as the cracks wove up the pillars. Kouichi was no expert of architecture, but with how old the warehouse was, he didn't think being inside would be a good idea if the place came crashing down. He'd done all that he could, and now he really did need to leave.

Suddenly, the young man Kouichi had tried to save began to stir. "What's… unnnh…" He groaned. Kouichi caught sight of him and let out some kind of horrified sobbing sound. It seemed the universe wasn't yet done testing him tonight. Damn it, hadn't he done enough?! Sure, he'd stared death in the eye a few times before, but that didn't mean he _enjoyed_ it! He had to live, and if he had to leave to do that, to pretend that everything had gone wrong _after_ he left, then so be it.

It was what Master would have wanted.

With a rumble and a crash, the pillars began to collapse. The ceiling came next, falling to the ground in chunks of concrete and metal piping. Suddenly, it seemed to dawn upon the man on the ground what was happening. "H-help me! Please! I never wanted to be here! I-I don't want to die!" He screamed.

Before Kouichi realized what was happening, his body had already begun to move on its own. He dove over the crying man to cover him as much as possible. Small chunks of the ceiling came down on his back, and he gritted his teeth in pain, trying to figure out exactly _why_ he would bother doing any of this. He was a vigilante, for God's sake. His job was to hide out down below everyone else and take down the people that the real heroes couldn't see. It wasn't a job that allowed for altruism. That was what heroes were for.

And he wasn't – would never be – a hero.

As the front half of the warehouse finally gave out, something large and heavy struck Kouichi on the head, and he blacked out.

oOoOo

"…er here…"

"…live?"

…think so… one else, too."

Kouichi's head hurt. When he opened his eyes, everything was blurry and the light made the pain in his head even worse. He kept them closed.

The voices continued. "Look at them," one of them said. It was soft and quiet, with a raspy growl mixed in. "It's like most of the falling debris didn't touch them. They should be covered in rubble like the others."

"How are the others?" Another voice said. It sounded exactly like the first. Kouichi found that odd.

"Alive," said the first voice. "One of them had an armor Quirk that allowed them to ride it out, one was trapped under a pillar that shielded them from the worst of it, and the last one… we'll see. Recovery Girl has gone to help, but last I heard, he's in critical condition. He didn't seem to have any way to mitigate the damage."

"Speaking of which, how do you think this happened?" Kouichi heard shuffling nearby, and then the voice came from closer to the ground. "It looks like… everything but the larger pieces of rubble missed them. Look, all the small debris that should be on top of them with the larger pieces is piled around them. What kind of Quirk is this?"

"Some kind of force field, maybe," A new voice chimed in. It sounded deep and serene. "The smaller debris would have struck it and bounced, and perhaps it was weak enough that the larger debris simply passed through."

"A semipermeable barrier, then. That makes sense," came the voice near the ground.

"And what about the costume? It's too shoddy to be worn by a certified Hero," said the same voice, the one farther away.

"Perhaps a vigilante? There are plenty of them to go around." Kouichi felt a hand shake him. "Excuse me, are you awake?"

Kouichi groaned and tried to lift his head. A weakness betrayed him, and he sank back to the ground.

"Please don't strain yourself, sir. Help has arrived," the deep voice said. "Hold still, and we'll get you both to a hospital." A moment passed, and then the voice spoke again, seemingly to the people nearby. "I'm going to clear out some of this concrete and make a path. Keep an eye on them for me?"

"Of course, Cementoss," came the voice from the standing person. Kouichi heard the remnants of the warehouse – huge chunks of stone and metal – being shifted around, and then the voice came from near his head again. "It's alright. They'll take good care of you at the hospital."

Hospital… no, if the Heroes found him in costume, they'd figure out who he was. He had all his gear on him – there was no way they wouldn't identify him! He had to escape, like he should have done as soon as things got hairy.

But his body wouldn't move. He couldn't even open his eyes without giving himself a headache. He'd truly been caught.

That thought drained him of any desire to run. The heroes had found him at last. They'd probably have some questions for him, and then… what? Part of him was hoping they'd take his help over the past three years into mind and go easy on him, but he knew that wasn't likely.

And they'd definitely tell his parents. Who knew what they'd do to him?

Kouichi surrendered himself to the darkness once again. At least he could get some nice sleep before the axe came down.

oOoOo

 _To think, this had started as such a routine night. Lying there in the rubble, with the heroes standing over me, all I could think about was how had everything gone so wrong? Was the universe really so determined to keep me from playing the hero? Sure, I wasn't a real hero, but…_

 _But what? That wasn't the first time I'd tried to play the hero, and at that moment, I couldn't remember any time it had ended well for me. Being an altruistic vigilante only ever seemed to blow up in my face. So maybe a vigilante was the only thing I could ever be._

 _But even if that was true… why did I still want so badly to help people? To soar above for just once in my life? Why was that wrong? Didn't the universe have better things to do than enforce that gap between the people above and below? I'd almost crossed that gap before, with help from Ingenium… but then he had taken his help back._

 _I knew what I'd promised Master, but I didn't want to just be a vigilante… but what else could I be if I couldn't be a hero?_

…

 _Of course, things went a little differently than I thought they would. Apparently, the universe really did have better things to do than keep me down. Looking back, there was a good amount of luck involved – I still haven't forgotten that – but given the circumstances, the last thing I could do was complain._

 _And given everything that's happened since then, how everything's shaped up, I'd say that's still the case._

… _Oh, right. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Haimawari Kouichi. This is my story, and despite what you've seen above, it's shaped to be a pretty good tale. Like I said, I can't complain about the result._

 _I mean, who could complain about becoming a Hero?_

 **I tried to do some action in this chapter. I do hope it turned out alright.**

 **As Kouichi's little monologue at the end assures, things will get better from here. Sometimes heroes don't get off to the best start, but Kouichi's got a lot ahead of him.**

 **Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	3. Outcomes

**Chapter Two**

 **Outcomes**

As Kouichi's gaze fluttered back from the darkness, a harsh light above made him wince. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, and felt something fairly soft beneath him and something thin but warm upon him. He twisted his head to the right and saw off-white walls and a large window through which light streamed into the room. To his left, he saw beeping medical equipment and a door at the other end of the wall. There was a desk against the left wall, and seated at it was a petite old lady with silver hair in a bun.

The old lady turned before Kouichi could say anything. "Good to see you're awake, dearie," she said with a smile. "You were out for a while. You should eat up, while you can." She beckoned to a tray positioned in front of Kouichi, upon which sat a styrofoam bowl filled with oatmeal, and some milk.

"Uh… thank you," Kouichi managed. His right arm was stiff, and pain fired through his shoulder as he moved it, but he grabbed the plastic spoon and lifted some oatmeal into his mouth. It was flavorful, if a bit thin, and he found himself hungry enough to continue eating. After a moment, he looked back at the old lady. Something about that white uniform and the pink goggles with lilac lenses seemed familiar. A name from before returned to mind. "Are you… Recovery Girl?" Kouichi asked.

The old lady nodded. "That I am. I'm afraid I'm all out of lollipops for now, but perhaps I'll return later today," she replied.

"Where am I? How long was I unconscious?" Kouichi picked up his spoon and continued to eat.

"A good twelve hours or so," Recovery Girl said. "It's morning now, in case you were curious. Some of the other heroes picked you up from that warehouse collapse and brought you here to Musutafu General." Her friendly stare changed slightly, became just a little harder. "I'm sorry to cut your recovery short, but there's plenty of questions for you to answer."

Kouichi set down his cup of milk. He considered running, but he had a good feeling that wouldn't work in his favor. "What kind of questions?"

"I'm sure you already know the answer to that, Mister Crawler," Recovery Girl said.

As Kouichi's Hero name passed from the lips of the lady who'd fixed him up so well, he expected to feel more panicked than he actually did. More than anything, he felt a sense of resignation – the feeling that he'd finally lost a long battle. What would Master think of him, if he could still see what had happened to his pupil?

"What's… going to happen to me?" Kouichi whispered.

The edge in Recovery Girl's eyes faded, replaced by sadness. "I'm afraid I don't know," she admitted.

Kouichi thought that over, then nodded slightly. "Okay, send them in," he said. "I'll face the music."

"Before I do that, there's a couple other people waiting on you," Recovery Girl said. She hopped down from her chair and stepped into the hall. "Mister and Missus Haimawari? Your son is awake."

A green, scaled woman burst through the door and rushed to Kouichi. She threw her arms around him and held him so tight that the pain in his chest flared back up. Kouichi groaned. "Ow, Mom, you're-"

Kouichi's mother pulled back to look her son in the face. Her lime-green eyes shone with a tumult of relief and anger. "Last night, the hospital called your father and I to say that a warehouse had fallen on you," she said, her whole body shaking. "We stayed outside your room all night waiting for you to wake up."

Kouichi flinched. He didn't usually think of his parents while on duty, and things had never gotten this out of hand. They must have been terrified for him. "Mom, I'm…" He started, eyes drifting downward. "I-"

"Look me in the eyes, Kouichi." His eyes swung back up. "I don't know _how_ what happened last night didn't kill you, and I don't care. Your days of throwing yourself at thugs and criminals are done."

Kouichi's stomach dropped. "Mom, I'm-"

"You should leave things like this to the police!" His mother railed on. "Or to real Heroes! People who are already prepared to handle danger! You don't have any-"

"I'm _SORRY!_ " Kouichi shouted. It sent another spasm of pain through his chest and his mother pulled back as he winced. A tall man came into the room and joined Kouichi's mother by their son's side. Kouichi looked at them both through clenched teeth and wet eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom, okay? And Dad, I'm sorry. Last night got out of hand, and maybe I should have stepped out before things got ugly, but I…" He sighed. "I just couldn't, okay?"

"Well, why not?" Kouichi's father asked gently. "What happened last night, Kouichi?" His father's voice was much gentler than his mother's, but Kouichi didn't feel any better about himself. If his mother had been angry, then his father sounded almost disappointed. He wasn't sure which of the two he preferred.

Kouichi hung his head as he recounted the story of the night before. He told his parents how he'd heard about something happening at the warehouse on the edge of town and gone to investigate. He told them how he'd succeeded in subduing two of the men who had come after him, before the third had brought the warehouse down upon himself and everyone else inside, and why Kouichi hadn't left before then.

"There was somebody else," Kouichi murmured. "Another man. He sounded terrified. They knocked him out before coming after me, and right as the warehouse started coming down, he woke up. I couldn't – maybe I _should_ have left him." He looked up at his parents and shook his head. "But I just… couldn't."

Kouichi's mother said nothing, but some of the anger had seemed to drain from her eyes while Kouichi told his story. Kouichi's father heaved a heavy breath. "Your body moved before you even knew what you were doing, huh?" He chuckled. "Sounds like the start to a great Hero story."

"Kourei!" Kouichi's mother hissed, turning to glare at her husband.

"I know, Kawae, I know," Kourei assured his wife. "You remember, Kouichi, that we never approved of you doing any of this?"

"Of course," Kouichi nodded.

"Even before that stuff with the Quirk enhancer?"

"Trigger, Dad."

"And you promised to give the vigilante stuff a rest. For good."

"Dad, I can't just stop helping people. They need me."

"I've read the stories about you, son. You may have done some amazing stuff, but it sounds like you've been running on luck for a while. You can't really say you've been helping yourself there."

Kourei huffed a laugh. "And while we're talking about luck, I still can't believe it took this long for you to end up here. Are you sure you've only got my Quirk? Maybe there's more of your mom in you than we thought."

Kouichi almost laughed, but caught a glimpse of his mother's withering gaze and changed his mind. "I learned a lot about fighting from Master," Kouichi said. "He taught me how to take hits and stay out of sight. And I've had plenty of time to practice my technique."

"That doesn't change what almost happened to you," Kawae said. She glared at her son. "How did you even hear about that warehouse? What could have possessed you to go there on your own?"

Kouichi's eyes flickered away from hers, then back before she could scold him for looking away. "I have… some informants. Please don't ask who, I'm not giving names," Kouichi replied, voice remarkably firm despite the situation. "They said they'd heard that something might happen in the warehouse yesterday, so I went to check it out, and… well, something did."

Kourei frowned, no longer amiable. "In other words, you heard about some Villains and decided to go after them." It wasn't really a question, and Kouichi knew it. Kourei let out a heavy exhale, a sure sign of mounting anger. "Son, you promised you wouldn't go after people anymore after what happened with that drug cartel. You swore up and down—"

"I know, I know!" Kouichi said.

"Then why did you go after these people?!" Kourei demanded, unfazed. "You didn't know who they were, or what they were planning! You got some secondhand information, and just ran where it pointed! That's how people _die_ , Kouichi!" His father's voice curved upward into a shout. Against that, Kouichi felt very small. Even his mother looked surprised; Haimawari Kourei was many things, but not somebody who easily lost control of himself. His father seemed to realize it, for he deflated before his family's eyes. "That's how people _die_ ," he repeated, soft and terrified.

Something broke within Kouichi at the look on his father's face – fear, real and visceral, the kind that he saw on people who were faced with death and unprepared to leave the world behind. It was so much worse, seeing his own father carrying that fear. The tears left his eyes before he could stop them, and before he knew it his mother's arms were around him, and he was sobbing like a child into her shoulder. He felt another soft touch on his back and knew it was his father.

Neither of his parents spoke a word as he cried, but Kouichi's mother continued holding him and his father's hand did not move from its place.

Kouichi eventually pulled away, tears still staining the space below his eyes. "I know I did something stupid last night," Kouichi said, his voice ragged. "I know I shouldn't have gotten into trouble again. But I—I haven't been able to help anyone for so long. I missed it." He hiccupped. "And honestly, I kind of missed having my name in the news – my Hero name, I mean."

His mother exhaled through her nostrils. "I see. So you went in thinking of the publicity," she said, eyes narrowed with soft disapproval. Kouichi's mother had always been critical of Heroes when it came to publicity; as far as she was concerned, it was always meant to be the last thing on a Hero's mind regarding their job. Kouichi had never learned the origin of his mother's standards, but it was a small number of people who seemed to fit them.

"Excuse me, am I interrupting something?" A young man stood at the door, wearing a beige coat and hat. "I don't mind waiting, if you need me to."

Kourei stood up. "I'm sorry, but who are you?" He asked.

The man reached into his coat and pulled out a shimmering detective's badge. "Apologies, Mister and Missus Haimawari. My name is Tsukauchi Naomasa, and I'm with the Musutafu Police Force. Whenever you're ready, we have some questions for your son."

Kawae joined her husband, keeping herself in front of her son. "Who is 'we'?"

"Us," came another voice as two more men, both tall and lanky, walked into the room from behind Tsukauchi. One of the men had dark, disheveled hair that draped down over white bandages wrapped loosely around his neck. His eyes were tired, but they carried a severity that his unkempt appearance could not hide. The other man was dressed fully in a trenchcoat, with an eerie helmet covering his entire head, save for his blank white eyes and wicked grin.

Heroes, the both of them. Kouichi felt himself sweat.

"We're because we have some questions of our own," the unkempt man said. "If it's not too much trouble." It wasn't a question, but the request within it was clear.

Kourei placed a hand on his wife's shoulder before she could reply, then turned back toward Kouichi with sorrow in his eyes. "Hey, son? I think we're being asked to step out here. You gonna be okay on your own?"

"I think so," Kouichi mumbled, looking down. Did it even matter?

Kouichi's father turned back around and smiled as best he could. "Kouichi? Whatever happens here, today… You're our son, and we love you. That's a promise."

Kouichi's mother turned as well. Her previous anger seemed to have melted at last. "It is," she told her son. Somehow, it hurt Kouichi to hear his parents say that, just as much as it helped him.

He nodded. "I love you, too."

Then Kouichi's parents walked out the door, and Kouichi was alone.

The detective pulled a clipboard and pen out from his coat. "Before we begin, let me introduce my associates. This is Eraserhead—" Tsukauchi pointed to the messy-haired man. "—and this is Ectoplasm." He pointed to the man in the sinister mask. "They've acquired permission—"

"Hang on, hang on," Kouichi interrupted him to look at the two Heroes. "Eraserhead and Ectoplasm? I know you! I have your action figures around somewhere!"

Eraserhead glowered at Kouichi while Ectoplasm chuckled beside him. "Do you think this is the time to be fanboying? You're being questioned."

Kouichi settled back into his bed. "Yeah, sorry. Go on, please," he told Tsukauchi.

The detective cleared his throat. "As I was saying, they've acquired permission to be here and ask questions, within reasonable limits. I'll stop them if they try to breach those limits. You have the right to remain silent, and in the event of a trial, you will have the right to an attorney. Do you understand?"

Kouichi nodded, then said, "Yes." He took a breath, and the dancing in his nerves slowed a bit.

"Alright, your name, for the record?" Tsukauchi asked.

"Haimawari Kouichi," Kouichi replied.

"Describe your Quirk, please."

"I call it Sliding—if I have three points of contact with a surface, I can automatically slide along it."

"Is there anything else?" Ectoplasm asked.

Kouichi blinked. "What do you mean?" He asked.

"He means what he asked," Eraserhead answered. "What else is your Quirk capable of?"

Kouichi thought for a moment. "I mean, I can make really sharp turns, spin around on a point, move in any direction I want, and decelerate whenever I want," he said, then added, "And I can slide up walls, if I'm moving fast enough. Is that good enough?"

Ectoplasm still looked oddly unsatisfied, but he nodded to Tsukauchi regardless. The detective wrote something on his clipboard. "How did you know something was happening at that warehouse?"

"One of my infor—friends told me they'd heard something," Kouichi said. "I'm not giving any names," he added as Ectoplasm opened his mouth.

"How did they hear about it?" Tsukauchi asked.

"Are you asking where or when?" Kouichi asked after a brief pause.

"Both."

Kouichi chose his words and spoke. "They heard it at the arcade, a couple days before I went to check it out, so… three days ago?" He prayed that wasn't enough to implicate Namimaru.

Tsukauchi seemed pleased. "Did either of you know what was happening at that warehouse?"

"No," Kouichi said. "Wait, what _was_ happening?"

"That's not important now," Ectoplasm replied, at the same time Eraserhead said, "Don't change the subject."

"It's fine. This will be going public anyway," Tsukauchi assured them. "Mister Haimawari, are you aware of the string of building collapses occurring in Musutafu over the past few months?"

Kouichi nodded. With four buildings collapsing in the same city over the past three months, it would have been ridiculous if he hadn't. "You happened to stumble upon the ringleader of those incidents," Tsukauchi explained. "His name is Hayakawa Kazuma, and he's an executive for an insurance company. He staged those collapses to force his competitors to pay out, and did the same to himself to try and keep himself above suspicion. The man you tried to rescue from the warehouse told us everything – his name is Maitachi Shogou, by the way. He sends his regards."

"You shouldn't have gone after him in the first place," Eraserhead said. "We're Heroes, we could have brought him in without causing such a mess."

"And even if what you did was impressive, you could have been hurt," Ectoplasm chimed in. "As it were, you took quite a blow to the head. You could have ended up much worse off if we hadn't found you so quickly." Compared to Eraserhead's hard reproach, Ectoplasm's tone was much gentler, as though Kouichi's well-being was a matter of greater importance to him than it was to Eraserhead.

Something about that soft growl was familiar, and it struck Kouichi after a moment of thinking. "Wait, did you save me?" Kouichi asked Ectoplasm. He sifted through jumbled memories back to the previous night. "When I woke up, someone was talking to me. Was that you? Your voice…"

Ectoplasm nodded. "Yes, it was. My clones and I helped search for people in the rubble. I thought I would come and see if you were well."

Kouichi opened his mouth to thank him, but Tsukauchi cleared his throat again and Kouichi's chance slipped by. "Anyway, if that answers your question, Mister Haimawari, we need to move on. You haven't received any formal Heroics training or education, have you?"

"I missed the entrance exams when I was younger," Kouichi admitted. "But I've had a few years of experience on the streets."

"We're all aware of your accomplishments," Eraserhead said. "But you haven't had any _formal_ experience?"

Kouichi felt a bit stung that Eraserhead would blow off everything that he'd done. "No, I haven't," he replied, a bit testily. "But I've still helped a lot of people and stopped a lot of Villains when no one else showed up. And remember the Trigger operation? I'm the one who led you to the higher-ups so you could get it off the streets. Not matter what, I think that's pretty impressive!"

It came out before he could force his mouth shut. He wasn't entirely sorry for saying it either.

Eraserhead's eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back just slightly to show his teeth. Ectoplasm, who was already all teeth, grimaced. Tsukauchi's brow furrowed, but Kouichi's barbs didn't seem to affect him. "On that note, can you tell us why you've been acting as a vigilante for so long? What exactly do you get out of it?" The detective asked.

"I told you, I get to help people," Kouichi said, the last remains of an edge fading from his voice. "I missed the entrance exams into a school for Heroics, so I used to put on my hoodie and go around town picking up trash and giving people directions – little things." He thought about those days, and how simple they had been, before Master had punched his way into his life. "Eventually, I ran into my master, and he took me under his wing so we could hunt down Trigger users together. He taught me how to fight with my Quirk, and gave me a new name – The Crawler."

"By 'Master,' you mean the old man?" Eraserhead asked. Kouichi was a bit surprised; it was the first question he'd asked that wasn't repeating was someone else had said.

Tsukauchi turned to Eraserhead. "Do you know who he's talking about?"

"I might," the Pro Hero replied. "A few years ago, I ran into an old man beating up a dealer for Trigger. He was Quirkless, so I let him go." He looked at Kouichi as though trying to place him. "I think I remember you being there as well, and some girl with pink hair."

"Yeah, that's him," Kouichi said. "He called himself Knuckle Duster. I never learned his real name."

Eraserhead blinked. "You never learned it? So he's dead, then?" He said.

The Hero's casual statement of it stung, but Kouichi nodded. "Yeah. We… had some bad luck hunting Trigger users one night. Before he died, he told me not to give up on being a Hero." Something began burning within his chest, a warm and empowering urge to stand up and start running and let nothing slow him down. "So even if what I do is wrong, even if it's against the law, I can't stop doing it. I promised Master I would stay out there and keep fighting."

Kouichi lifted his gaze toward the three men before him, feeling an indelible sense of pride. "Besides, helping people feels so good, I don't think I could stop no matter what, and I know I don't need to be a Hero to do that."

Eraserhead's eyes narrowed, yet Kouichi wasn't sure that he had made the Hero any angrier. Rather, he seemed more lost in thought, debating with himself about something. Meanwhile, Ectoplasm cocked his head to the side and looked at the young vigilante as though trying to puzzle him out, and Tsukauchi exhaled a long breath through his nose.

"That's a nice speech, young man, but it doesn't change what you've done," the officer said. "Regardless of your intentions, you've committed numerous accounts of assault and battery, breaking and entering, and willful violation of Quirk regulation laws. Those acts may have been to a helpful end, but that doesn't justify your committing them."

"It may interest you to know that shortly after we confirmed your identity, someone came forward to vouch for you," Ectoplasm said. "How do you know Ingenium?"

"Oh, we used to be friends, kind of," Kouichi said. "He ran into me one morning while I was practicing my Quirk, and he gave me some pointers and offered me a position in his agency." He wilted slightly at the memory. "Then he found out I was a vigilante and took it back."

"You didn't think there would be consequences to telling him what you'd been doing?" Eraserhead glared at Kouichi. "Heroes have reputations to protect. They can't afford such short-sighted thinking as that."

"I wasn't _trying_ to lie to him. I was too stunned when he gave me his card to explain anything," Kouichi replied. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I helped him take down a villain, and he recognized me. He asked me to give his card back the next day."

Eraserhead somehow stared even more firmly, as though honing in on something. "And what would you have said if the offer still stood? Would you have told him the truth?"

Tsukauchi shot Eraserhead a glance. "That's not related to the matter at hand. His decision and what could have been isn't up for questioning."

Kouichi agreed that matters were becoming personal. He found it perplexing that the Hero was being so persistent. He'd been honest, as far as he knew. Still, Eraserhead was looking at him so insistently that he didn't feel like he could say nothing.

"I think I would have told him," Kouichi admitted quietly. "If he was going to put so much trust in me – to give me such a big chance – I think I would want to be worthy of that trust."

Eraserhead stared at him in silence, the hard look in his eyes betraying none of his intentions. Kouichi wondered if Eraserhead hadn't liked his answer, but it was too late for that to matter. He'd answered honestly, and that was all he could do in his position.

Suddenly, the Pro Hero turned toward Tsukauchi. "How much time is he looking at?" He asked.

Tsukauchi's brow furrowed in thought for a moment before he replied. "Even with Ingenium's word, I'd say about two or three years, if his behavior's good. Do you have another suggestion?"

"We could take him."

The detective started, eyes widening in surprise. It was such an unexpected reaction that Kouichi couldn't help but be startled. "What do you mean, take him?" Tsukauchi asked. "Are you volunteering to look after him?"

"…I'll have to speak with the principal, but yes."

Now it was Ectoplasm's turn to looked stunned. His jaw dropped as his wide, blank eyes shone through his mask. "Aizawa, be reasonable! Between teaching our students and our Hero work, we won't have time to look after him."

"Then we make him a teacher's assistant or something, force him to stay busy and keep him in a position where we can all monitor his activities," Eraserhead answered calmly. "I assume standard probationary conditions would apply?" He asked Tsukauchi.

"They would," Tsukauchi replied after a moment's pause. "But someone would need to act as his probation officer."

"I'm sure someone wouldn't mind volunteering. Might help if we can get a few people involved," Eraserhead said.

"But why would you go to such lengths for him?" Ectoplasm asked. "What's your angle here, Aizawa?"

Eraserhead's eyes flickered toward a thoroughly confused Kouichi. "It's not important right now. I'll explain later," he said. He fixed his gaze on Kouichi once more. "I'm going to make you an offer, Haimawari, one that I don't believe you're liable to refuse. Keep quiet until I'm finished, understand?"

Kouichi nodded dumbly.

"People like you would normally end up at the mercy of the police, spend a few years in jail, then end up back on the streets with nowhere to go. However, I'm sticking my neck for you, don't ask me why, and offering you an alternative. Think of it a form of probation, instead of jail time.

"In six months, it'll be April, and U.A. will be accepting a new freshman class." Eraserhead leaned in, looking like a predator who knew he'd get his kill. "You'll follow them between classes, acting as an assistant for their teachers and performing whatever duties they require. You've graduated from university, so you shouldn't have a problem with high school classes." He smirked. "Hell, you've never been to a school for Heroics. Maybe you'll learn something new. In the meantime, you'll report to these teachers and they'll enforce any limitations that we see fit to place upon you.

Eraserhead's tone grew frigid. "And if you refuse to toe the line, if you insist on acting out again, we will _not hesitate_ to put an end to this arrangement and hand you back to the police so they can put you in a cell. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

Kouichi's head went numb. He tried to process what Eraserhead was offering him, but there was so much that the connections in his brain could barely keep pace. He could get probation working at U.A. instead of going to prison – that seemed to be the most important thing Eraserhead had said. It sounded like either way, he'd be spending a few years working through his sentence. At U.A., he could at least spend his time surrounded by the Heroes he'd admired since he was a boy, instead of being cooped up in a jail cell. He could witness future Heroes being molded before his eyes – he'd always wanted to know what U.A. taught its students to make them so successful.

Then again, he realized, they might not want to spend time with a vigilante like him.

And regardless, there was a bigger problem.

"I… don't know how to be an assistant," Kouichi mumbled. With so much on his mind, even forming the words was difficult.

"I'm sure we could spend some time showing you the ropes," Ectoplasm said, sounding uncertain. He seemed as surprised by Eraserhead's offer as Kouichi felt. "You would be asked to assist during classes and likely to grade some assignments outside of class. Much of the curriculum is standard high school core classes, so if you've graduated from university last April, then you shouldn't have much difficulty understanding the material."

He shot Eraserhead a dubious look. "As Eraserhead mentioned, you would be monitored while on campus by someone acting as your probationary officer, and likely in general as well." He paused for thought, then added, "I supposed I wouldn't mind volunteering to manage you."

"If that's the case, then we only need one other thing here," Eraserhead said. "Do we have a deal, Haimawari?"

Kouichi thought of Master, and wondered what he would say. He'd probably shut Eraserhead down, then try to bust out of jail as soon as he could. He was strong for a Quirkless man; Kouichi knew that a Quirkless prison wouldn't hold him for long.

But Kouichi wasn't Knuckle-Duster. He'd end up in a prison for real Villains, dangerous people with dangerous powers. The past few years had toughened him up, but it wouldn't be enough to keep him safe in prison, and he knew it.

And this way, he could probably still see Pop, Namimaru, Samazu, and his parents. It was better than the alternative.

Kouichi looked up at Eraserhead, whose eyes already shone with the knowledge of a victory. "Okay. I'll do it."

 **For those curious about the etymology of Kouichi's parents' names, Kourei's name is Kouichi's name with the character for "one" replaced with the character for "zero", indicating both that he's Kouichi's father and that they share a Quirk. Perhaps Kouichi's child would be named Kouni or Koufu to continue the pattern. (Are those even names?) Kawae, according to Google Translate (sadly the best I can do), contains the character for "skin" or "leather", which is a hint at her Quirk.**

 **A lot of dialogue this chapter.** **It might be a bit dry, but it's an important step before Kouichi starts his time at U.A.** **I tried to establish Kouichi's relationship with his parents, and their prior knowledge with his vigilantism, but I'm not sure how well I did (they learned about it after he took down Trigger, then they made him stop, then he started doing small things in secret before the warehouse incident brought him back into the open).**

 **I'm hoping to establish relationships between Kouichi and some of the teachers over the next few chapters, before the school year begins and the presence of Class 1-A makes that harder.**

 **Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


	4. The Faithful

**Chapter Three**

 **The Faithful**

"…for all intents and purposes, you're in possession of a very promising Quirk. Sliding, you call it?" The principal of U.A. rambled on, looking across his table at Kouichi, who was seated in a chair on the other side. "That sounds like an invaluable ability for rescue operations. If you can hone your control and ability to operate in high-risk environments, then certainly you would have little difficulty finding and retrieving people in need from many places. Moreover, with proper strength you could transport tools or perhaps even people across rescue sites, saving others precious seconds to save lives…"

Kouichi watched the humanoid mouselike creature seated across from him, feeling in his gut that it would be some time before he would be able to speak again. He hadn't been expecting Nedzu to be an actual mouse when Eraserhead had brought him in for vetting (although perhaps the name had been a clue). He'd had an easier time suppressing laughter than he'd expected; regardless of his species, Principal Nedzu had the authority to veto Eraserhead's suggestion to bring Kouichi onto the staff. If that happened, there was only one place left for Kouichi to go.

It had been a few days since Kouichi's meeting with the police and Heroes. He'd been released that evening, and around the time he reached his house, his face was already in the news – "IDENTITY OF LOCAL VIGILANTE 'THE CRAWLER' REVEALED".

Somehow, the fact that they'd _finally_ gotten his Hero name right hadn't done much to console Kouichi. It hadn't helped his parents any when the phone calls started streaming in; as far as Kouichi knew, his mother hadn't lost any students and his father still had a place at the construction site, but the upset and shameful looks on their faces hurt him somewhere deep.

It hadn't been a huge story, since the police had redacted much of anything pertaining to Trigger or the people who'd been circulating it, but it had been enough for a camera crew to stop by his house and request an interview. Thankfully, Kouichi's mother and father had been able to force their way through the crowds without revealing anything scandalous, and Kouichi had locked himself in his room until they went away hours later.

He'd also received a few phone calls of his own, from Namimaru and Samazu, and one from his boss at the convenience store near his old apartment, telling him not to bother coming into work anymore. Kouichi didn't mind that too much – after everything had blown up, his parents had made it quite clear that he was to be a permanent resident in his old home for the indefinite future, so it wasn't like he could have worked if he'd wanted to.

Right now, U.A. was all he had left. If he failed that as well, then he didn't see much else he could go on to do.

"Mister Haimawari, may I ask if you ever pursued a legal career in Heroics? Did you ever attempt any entrance exams into schools for the subject?" Nedzu asked. To Kouichi, whose attention had slipped, the questions came so suddenly that he found himself at a loss for words. He shot a quick glance to the right in Eraserhead's direction, and received an icy stare.

Kouichi forced himself to stop and breathe – as per his parent's advice – and composed himself. "I, um, yeah, I was pretty serious about it back then. I applied to this Heroics school in Tokyo. Nothing fancy, but I figured it'd get me started," he said, pulling his voice back into line when it wavered. "On the way to the entrance exam, I saw a boy drowning in the river, and I leaped in to save him. I was already running late, and it took so long to get him out and make sure he was okay that I sort of missed the exam. Plus, I hadn't applied to any other schools at the time – I was only barely able to apply for a general high school."

"So you weren't able to become a real Hero because you were busy being a hero?" Eraserhead asked. "That's some painful irony." The look on his face landed somewhere between genuine sympathy and faint amusement, and only lasted a second before it was gone. "Still, if you were late, then the fault lies with you. You could have changed things for yourself if you'd been more prepared."

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Kouichi said. Despite Eraserhead's criticisms, the corners of Kouichi's lips turned upward. "I mean, every now and then I wonder what could've happened, but I can't say I have any regrets. The thought of my Hero's soul living on within him is all the reward I need. Heck, maybe he's hoping to become a Hero in my honor someday. That'd be nice."

"Your 'Hero's soul'?" Eraserhead smirked. "This isn't a comic book, Haimawari. You aren't born a Hero – you work towards it." As his icy stare intensified, the wrappings around his neck stiffened and lifted away from his shoulders, hanging in the air around him. "And if helping one person is enough to satisfy you, how can we be sure you'll keep going once you're done with that? This school has a reputation for being top-class, so it can't afford bad investments."

He gave a predator's smile, eyes glimmering with scorn. "So why don't you prove that you're worth our time? Make us _really_ want to consider having you."

Nedzu cut in before Kouichi could reply. "If you're at a loss, perhaps some guidance would be helpful," he said. He leaned toward Kouichi with interest. "Haimawari, people say that greed is a mortal sin, and they aren't wrong. However, desire itself is an important part of life. It drives all living things. Money, power, fame, love, satisfaction, or mere survival – all of those are perfectly normal desires that motivate us every day. Without desire, we would want nothing, and the resulting stagnation would certainly doom this planet.

"With that in mind, what Aizawa is asking – what you ought to be asking yourself now – is what do _you_ desire? What drives you, Haimawari? What wants does your Hero's soul encompass? Bearing the soul of a Hero is not a simple feat, and those desires will serve as your motivation to suffer the hardships ahead. In some cases, perhaps they will be your only motivation, so I would advise you to think about them before you provide your answer."

The principal's smile never left his face, but Kouichi didn't think he could be more serious if he wanted to.

Kouichi brought his fist to his chin and thought. A minute later, he spoke. "I want to help people," he said, his voice shaky but resolute underneath. "That's all I've ever really wanted to do. Isn't that what all Heroes want?"

Eraserhead looked ready to speak, but the principal shot him a look and he held himself in check.

"Maybe it's not the strongest desire, or the most selfless, but helping people just feels good," Kouichi continued with a smile. "Plus, I promised my master I would keeping taking care of the Villains in his absence, so I feel like I have to do something. Being a vigilante isn't really an option for me anymore, but maybe I can help teach some real Heroes-to-be instead. Villain thwarting by proxy." He chuckled, wondering what Knuckle-Duster would think of him now. Hopefully he'd be understanding.

Nedzu appeared to chew on Kouichi's words for a moment, then he spoke. "Well, it's not the most concrete motivation, but I've certainly heard worse. If nothing else, I think you'd fit in quite nicely here, Haimawari. You possess a pleasant and helpful nature that I believe would make for an ideal assistant. Furthermore, I suspect that some of the more easily intimidated students would enjoy the option of asking for assistance from somebody other than the teachers."

"Won't they recognize me from the news?" Kouichi asked.

"If the school year were starting tomorrow, then perhaps some of the more local students would," Nedzu replied, pointing a declarative finger into the air. "However, six months is quite a while for a story of this magnitude to pass, so I'm sure most students will have forgotten about it by then."

"It wouldn't do for people to know we're harboring a known vigilante so soon after he's been revealed to the public," Eraserhead added. "So keep your head down for a while once things start up. If you're lucky, it'll only be a few months before people stop caring. If not…" He lifted his chin and flashed a humorless smile at Kouichi. "We might decide that keeping you around isn't worth what people start saying."

The crinkling feeling in Kouichi's gut returned with a vengeance.

"At any rate, Haimawari, I advise you not to let yourself be overwhelmed," Nedzu said. He hopped up onto his chair and climbed onto his desk, walking across it as though nothing was out of the ordinary to him. Once the principal reached Kouichi's side of the desk, he dropped to a seated position with his legs dangling over the edge, leaving himself and Kouichi at about eye level. "What Aizawa says is true, if harshly put, but anyone capable of near singlehandedly toppling a drug empire should be more than capable of surviving this academy." He punctuated that thought with a chuckle. "You'll be monitored, yes, and you will be required to report your activities weekly to one of the faculty – I advise keeping a log – but I believe that you have a good heart, Haimawari. Carry that heart with you, make it evident to everyone around you, and I'm certain you'll have few problems here."

Kouichi blinked, a bit surprised. "Oh, uh… thanks, I guess," he said. "So… I have the position? I'm going to be a teacher's assistant?"

"Before we get to that, I have a few things I'd like to speak about with Aizawa," the principal replied. "If no one has any objections."

Eraserhead nodded. "Fine. Haimawari, go outside and wait for me. I'll be out in a while."

"Um, okay," Kouichi replied, sounding confused as he rose to his feet and bowed to the mousy figure. "Thank you for your time, Principal Nedzu."

He left, sliding the door behind him.

Nedzu slid away from the edge of his desk and stood up. His shoes clopped against the hard wood as he turned walked toward the side nearer Aizawa. "Now then, Aizawa, I'm curious as to your motivations for bringing that young man in for an opportunity like this. Considering how you sent your entire freshman class home early this year, that doesn't seem much like you." He slid down onto the edge facing Aizawa, bearing a casual posture tinged with a more business-like air. "Tsukauchi informed me that you've met Haimawari before, and that you personally vouched for him, correct? Did you perhaps witness some potential within him that might otherwise go squandered?"

"I'm planning ahead," Aizawa said, before the principal could launch into another lecture. "If All Might's power is slipping, then we'll need as many Heroes as we can get for the worst-case scenario. Haimawari… has shown that he possesses some capability of becoming a good Hero. I think he might be worth some of our time. That's all." His eyes narrowed. "And if he ends up a disappointment, then we still get an assistant out of him. He's versatile."

Nedzu nodded along, already doing some thinking of his own. He didn't doubt for a second that Aizawa didn't sympathize with that young man at least a little, even if he'd fight tooth and nail to deny it. Furthermore, Aizawa was righter than he realized; with All Might planning to pass One for All along to his new protégé, there was only time before the Symbol of Peace would no longer be. Japan would need more Heroes to fill that great void, and Haimawari Kouichi seemed a promising start.

Not only that, but it would do nicely to have an assistant capable of looking after that apprentice throughout the day. Nedzu hadn't met Midoriya Izuku yet, but All Might had talked about him incessantly and showered him with praise during all of their meetings, and Nedzu had constructed something of a profile: young, inexperienced, and uncertain, but also determined, passionate, quite smart, and carrying a heart the likes of which only true Heroes possessed.

Perhaps Midoriya and Haimawari would hit it off through their shared love of All Might and Heroes in general. They certainly shared much, entering the world of Heroes from normal beginnings. There were so many possibilities to consider, all coming together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle that perhaps years down the line would congeal into a final picture.

Nedzu smiled. He quite enjoyed puzzles.

oOoOo

"…anyway, I'm just waiting for their verdict, and then we'll know where things stand," Kouichi said into his phone. He leaned against the wall outside the principal's office, ignoring the suspicious looks he received from the students passing by. Something told him he'd be getting used to those whether he wanted to or not. "U.A.'s not too far away, so I can just walk it or take a bus. It shouldn't be a problem.

"Anyway, call me when you get this, I guess. Love you, Dad." He hung up. Mom would probably have been teaching a class right then, so Kouichi decided to wait until the evening to tell her everything.

Kouichi watched the students passing by as candidly as he could to avoid frightening them. He was out of place here, and he knew it; a fallen star next to so many still rising, whose future seemed all the more dim surrounded by their shining potential. Although they couldn't see that, the students should have had no trouble realizing that this man, being at least four or five years older than any of them, was a sudden anomaly in their familiar environment.

Some of the students smiled at Kouichi as they hurried past him, but even they didn't stop to talk.

Kouichi buried himself back into his phone, pulling up the texts from his friends in hopes of feeling some measure of support. Samazu and Namimaru had sent him a message filled with so many capital letters and exclamation points that he could almost feel his phone screaming his face backward, along with a long list of "manly" things to say, do, and remember. ('If SOME PUNKASS! BASTARD tells you to fork over the last! pudding cup, SCREAM WORDS OF DEFIANCE INTO THEIR FACE! and take! the FUCK OFF! BOSS!')

Somehow, Kouichi didn't think he'd make much use of it, even if he did appreciate the thought.

They'd even talked Unagisawa into sending him something, which Kouichi thought was impressive since the young boy still wouldn't come within a block of him since Master gave him that beatdown a few years ago. It wasn't at all long – the exact phrase 'good luck mister haimawari' without any sort of punctuation – but Kouichi took it for what it was.

Then there was Pop Step. Kouichi still couldn't understand what had happened between the two of them; she'd come to visit him in the hospital later in the same day that the Heroes had shown up, bearing teary eyes and unkempt hair. If Kouichi hadn't heard her screaming at people out in the hall before she came in, he would have hardly recognized her. Instead of her trademark verbal barbs, she'd told him how much she'd worried about him and how happy she was to see that he was alright (and then called him a dummy – thankfully some things never changed).

When Kouichi had told her he'd be working with the Heroes, she'd gone still. Days later, he still couldn't decipher the look on her face, the one that carried shock and sadness and anger, and what he couldn't help but think was joy and relief, not matter how little sense that made. She'd asked him what that meant for her security, and when he'd said that he hadn't done that for her in months, she'd screamed at him, called him selfish and said she didn't want anything to do with him anymore. She'd left after that, and although Kouichi had texted her multiple times since and asked Samazu and Namimaru to talk to her, she'd given him nothing but radio silence.

It was funny; when Kouichi and Pop had first met, Kouichi had thought her an obnoxious teen girl with too much self-importance. Admittedly, that hadn't really changed, but now it bothered Kouichi that she didn't want to speak to him anymore. He hadn't realized how close she'd ended up becoming to him.

Maybe he could have found a way for them to part on better terms.

"Reading some messages, Haimawari?" Someone said. Kouichi looked up from his phone as Ectoplasm walked up to him.

"Um…" Kouichi fumbled. With Ectoplasm's mask covering his face and his trench coat obscuring his posture, Kouichi was left stuck figuring out the Hero's intentions. "Yeah, I—I guess I am," he managed, kicking himself internally.

Ectoplasm made a single dry-sounding chuckle. "I see I've unnerved you. Don't apologize, there was a reason I designed my costume to be this way," he said. "I assure you, for the moment you've no reason to fear me. I'm just passing by."

"Oh, alright," Kouichi said, feeling himself relax a bit. Back in the hospital, Ectoplasm had shown him a fair share of concern, even as Aizawa scrutinized him. Kouichi was starting his time at U.A. alone, and that friendliness and care would not go unappreciated. "I wasn't expecting to see many teachers in the hallway. Aizawa said they'd be busy around the end of the day."

"And he would be correct," Ectoplasm replied. "However, I'm leaving a bit early today. My husband and I have a lunch date." He beckoned with a nod to the door. "Are Aizawa and the principal deliberating in there?"

Kouichi thought. "I… think so? I was just in there for a little while, and Nedzu seemed—the principal seemed like he was pretty interested in me. I'm not sure why they'd be taking so long if he was already planning on giving me the job."

Ectoplasm shook his head in amusement. "Well, that's the principal for you—so much wisdom and so many words in such a small body, it's practically a wonder of the world." He chuckled while Kouichi brayed a laugh, then laughed aloud as Kouichi glanced in panic at the principal's door. "As for Aizawa, I've taught alongside him for a few years now, but I'm afraid I don't understand his intentions toward you. He said that he's encountered you before?"

Kouichi shrugged. "Not so much me as my master. They met and fought for a bit while Master was chasing a Trigger dealer. I was just sort of nearby when it happened. I'm surprised he recognized me." Kouichi looked back at the door to the principal's office with a sense of anxiety—whatever was happening in there could decide his future for years to come. "Can you tell me anything about him?"

Ectoplasm leaned in closer, and his shining white eyes narrowed. "Aizawa is a man who expects much from those in his care, Haimawari, and he does not hesitate to wield the rod in cases of failure," he said. "He's often harsh, and rarely gentle, but he's always a kind man, even if that kindness is contrary to what others would consider."

Kouichi pulled back, looking confused. "That's… wait, what are you talking about? He's harsh, but he's kind, too? I don't get what you're saying."

Ectoplasm tilted his head to the side in thought. "Perhaps it would help if you could find a parallel. Tell me about your master. Did he ever harm or antagonize you for your own sake?"

Kouichi tightened a bit. Something about the mention of his master made him worry that Ectoplasm was going to disparage him, and the loyal fibers of Kouichi's body felt the urge to come to his aid. He forced himself to calm down before he spoke, lest he say something to harm his standing in U.A. before his probation even began.

"Master would make me help with his training," Kouichi said. "I'd put on those punch pads and move around, and he'd use me for target practice." Ectoplasm's eyes widened and Kouichi understood what he was thinking. "I mean, he never abused me or anything! I think it actually helped me build up some of my own endurance."

Ectoplasm still looked uncomfortable. "Very well," he conceded for the moment. "But did he ever _test_ you? Did your master ever place obstacles before you to determine your ability to surpass them?"

Kouichi was confused; he'd never questioned the meaning behind Knuckle-Duster's methods. The old man had undoubtedly been single-minded, and that dogged determination of his was troublesome and sometimes downright frightening, but he'd been dedicated to taking down Trigger and getting its dealers off the streets. He'd taken Kouichi under his wing and given him the opportunity to live out his old dream, even when living that dream meant being thrown at hulking monstrosities to act as a distraction until Knuckle-Duster could find just the right way to cave their face in.

When Kouichi framed it like that, he could remember why he'd been so terrified to work with Master at first, before the excitement at being a Hero had overtaken everything else. Knuckle-Duster had been passionate about stopping Villains… but he hadn't done much of what Kouichi would consider teaching.

Ectoplasm was still waiting for an answer. Kouichi didn't know how long he'd been thinking.

"I… I'm not sure," Kouichi admitted, bowing his head. His insides twisted with shame. He'd failed to provide a better reply, and he'd turned his back toward the master who'd given him a second chance.

A black-gloved hand reached underneath his chin and gently tilted his head upward. Ectoplasm's leering expression softened. "Haimawari, I don't wish to judge you. I merely want to help you understand our expectations for you," he said. Kouichi would have found it hard to believe that someone with that sinister an appearance could speak so kindly. "U.A. stands at the pinnacle of this world as an institution, an incubator for the nurturing and growth of young Heroes and their potential. We, as its instructors, have worked faithfully to become worthy of that reputation, and that is a battle that doesn't cease upon the granting of a title.

"If the principal has truly taken interest in you, then he believes that you and your future self are worthy of his attention and aid." Ectoplasm's voice grew a slight bit harder. "I don't pretend to know how your master saw fit to instruct you, but U.A.'s education is a test of the body and mind in addition to one's abilities. Many would seek the title of Hero, but only a small number of them possess the capability and worth to wear it. Do you know any of the Heroes who can say they've graduated from this academy?"

Kouichi swallowed, not even realizing that his throat was dry. "Uh… Endeavor's one of them, right? The number two Hero? And Best Jeanist, number four? And…" The corners of Kouichi's mouth curved upward. "All Might?" The mere thought of working in the same school that brought All Might to such fame made Kouichi feel like floating. It wasn't unlike the feeling he'd gotten when he'd met Knuckle-Duster, except there was no fear to distract from it this time.

Ectoplasm noticed Kouichi's excitement and seemed amused. "Yes, they all entered U.A.'s crucible and trained themselves in the fire, so that they would come out tempered and strong. That is the philosophy by which U.A. forges the heroes of tomorrow, and were we not held to that standard alongside them, we wouldn't be any more than hypocrites in strange costumes."

The Hero's gaze seemed to bore through Kouichi's eyes and into something deep within him. "Despite the outside nature of your station, Haimawari, I believe it will be no different for you. You'll be tested in your body, mind, and abilities, and that may be an unfamiliar experience for you, but you must persevere. This is the reality that we instructors and our students face every day. It wouldn't be fair to exclude you from it."

As if Kouichi had been held aloft by Ectoplasm's words, their absence made him slump, like a puppet with a missing string. The enormity of the duty that he had accepted confronted him now, leering in his face and pressing against his chest with a weighty hand. He forced himself to keep breathing, smooth and calm, ignoring his constricting ribcage.

Suddenly, three years in prison where no one expected anything from him didn't sound so bad.

A strong grip on both of Kouichi's shoulders drew him from his terror. Ectoplasm looked at him with apologetic eyes, and his arms held his coat open to reveal the wiry black-suited body underneath. "I'm sorry, Haimawari, that I've brought such distress upon you," the Hero said, voice thick with reproach. "I felt it would be a disservice to let you believe that your time with us would be so simple. As I've told you, Aizawa is rarely gentle despite his goodness, and I wanted to fill that need. I apologize for my failure." He released Kouichi's shoulders, but allowed his arms to drape down outside of his coat. "Haimawari Kouichi, you've chosen to walk a path of many thorns when the sole other option was captivity, and although I'm not ignoring that the road to that decision was yours alone-" He let his words hang for a moment. "I want to witness your growth, and your success. The principal believes that you are worthy of that chance, and so do I."

Suddenly, his phone rang, and Ectoplasm fished it from his pocket and looked at it sheepishly. "Sorry, I need to leave. I've been keeping Sekijirou waiting," he said, bowing goodbye and walking down the hall with phone in hand. "Ah, Secchan, my apologies. I was speaking to our new assistant… untested, but I believe he'll become a fine addition… yes, of course…"

Before Kouichi had any time to process what Ectoplasm had told him – beyond the basic feelings of gratitude and reassurance – the principal's door slid open and Aizawa stepped out, bearing his usual haggard expression. "Were you talking to someone?" He asked.

From his tone of voice, Kouichi felt compelled to answer. "Yeah, Ectoplasm was just here. We were talking about this school and what kind of—"

"Yeah, I don't need to hear the whole thing," Aizawa cut him off. "So I'm guessing that this is something you still want to do? If you're afraid now, there's no shame in changing your mind. Might be the better option."

Kouichi's heart leaped, but he held a calm face and shook his head. "Thanks, but I've decided. I think I could learn a lot from being here, things I really want to know. I can't do that in jail."

Aizawa smirked, and Kouichi would always wonder if he'd meant to smile a bit as well. "Fine. Just remember that was your choice. Now come on, the principal wants me to give you the run of the place. Don't fall behind." He turned and walked away at a brisk pace. Kouichi kept up with him at a jog.

Something told him that he'd be jogging in more ways than one for the next few years.

That was fine. There were people here who believed that he could succeed. That made believing in himself much easier.


	5. My Starting Line

**Chapter Four**

 **My Starting Line**

The sun dipped low against the horizon, glowing a brilliant orange-red, as Kouichi stumbled up to the front door of his parents' house. He yawned, and his shoulders ached as he pulled them back. He still couldn't believe that Aizawa had managed to keep him around for another five hours after the principal had finished with him.

The Pro Hero had herded Kouichi around U.A.'s massive campus, bringing him around to all of the different types of classrooms that would house each of the many courses. U.A.'s Heroics department was the most renowned of them all, but the academy also provided courses for Hero Support students who would work behind the scenes to aid Heroes in the field, Hero Management students learning to market various Heroes and their agencies, and General Education students seeking a normal education over a career in Heroics—or in some cases, settling for a normal education after failing to qualify for the Heroics course.

According to Aizawa, Ectoplasm was responsible for the General Education classes (with his Clone Quirk, handling all three classes was child's play). Kouichi had been relieved to hear that; Ectoplasm seemed like the kind of person who could be trusted to care for people like him, whose dreams of heroics would never be realized.

When Kouichi asked what sort of entrance exam U.A. used, Aizawa had given the veiled answer of, "the kind that you would have a hard time passing." Kouichi had felt oddly saddened by that, perhaps because he'd always wanted to believe otherwise.

The inside of U.A. took up a few hours, and the outside took up the rest of the time. Aizawa and Kouichi had meandered out toward the edges, and Aizawa pointed out the myriad of training fields arranged to simulate various environments such as a neighborhood, a construction site, or a large city block. When they'd reached the front gate, Aizawa sent Kouichi through the gate and called him back in, only for the gate to slam shut when Kouichi drew within a few feet of it. For a moment, the thought that Aizawa had unilaterally dismissed him made Kouichi panic, but then the gate slid back open revealing Aizawa's smirking face.

They called it the 'U.A. Barrier', and it only opened for people with the proper authorization, which Kouichi lacked.

"You'll be authorized sometime before the next school year starts," Aizawa had said. "But don't think that means you'll get free reign of the place."

By the time the tour was over, the sun was setting, and Kouichi stopped by a fast food place for some take-out before running home. He was embarrassingly unaccustomed to running everywhere instead of sliding (which his probation had placed off the table), and it had taken him much longer than he'd anticipated.

Now, as Kouichi fumbled with his keys in one hand, take-out bag in the other, his stomach growling, he wanted nothing more than today to end. How could he be this tired? When he was still roaming the streets, he'd stay up practically all night and still be fighting fresh come morning. Maybe all of that missed sleep was catching up to him, turning him into some kind of zombie – the woken dead. Ugh.

He finally got the door open, and his call of "I'm home" was cut off by a sudden yawn. His shoes clomped against the wooden floor as he made for the nearby staircase, and Kouichi heard his parents calling for him from the living room, but the exhaustion muffled their voices as he made his way into his room and shut the door.

He threw his hoodie onto his bed, then stumbled over to his desk and collapsed into his chair. He pulled a burger out of his take-out bag and bit into it with a starved fervor; the blossoming mixture of salt, meat, and saucy tastes exploded down his tongue, and Kouichi felt his depleted energy refill with every bite as he continued wolfing down his meal.

"Hey, Kouichi?" With a mouth full of food, Kouichi turned in his seat and saw his father poking through his bedroom door. "No shoes in the house, buddy. Pass 'em up," Kourei said, wiggling his hand expectantly.

The words made sense after a moment. Kouichi reached down and untied his shoes, then slipped them off and tossed them across his room toward his father, who caught them with a practiced ease. "You look like you had a busy day, kiddo. I got your message from earlier – what's the verdict?"

Kouichi swallowed his food. "I'm in."

Kourei pumped his fist. "Alright, great! Wanna talk about it?"

"Could we wait until tomorrow?" Kouichi asked. "I'm really burned out tonight."

His father laughed. "Sure. That's having a full-time job for you. It gets easier after that first week, but it's gonna be a rough ride for a while." Kourei's smile diminished slightly. "You think you're up for it?"

It was a bit out of place, Kouichi thought, that he and his father would talk about his probation as though it were an ordinary job. Maybe his dad needed that feeling of normalcy for a while longer, to come to terms with his son's new circumstances.

"I think so," Kouichi replied, gesturing idly with the burger in his hand. "I'll have half a year to prepare. Besides, if I could get used to being a vigilante, this shouldn't be too hard."

As Kouichi finished, it struck him how flippant he must have sounded. From the way his father's smile slid into a frown, he thought the same way. "Well, don't forget to be on your best behavior. You don't want anyone to find a reason to want you gone," he said.

Kouichi looked away. "Yeah, I know."

Kourei said nothing for a moment more. "Well, have a nice rest. You getting up early again tomorrow?"

Kouichi nodded. "Around six."

"Oh, we'll be eating breakfast together," his father said, a sliver of a smile returning to his face. "We can talk more then. Goodnight, Kouichi. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad," Kouichi replied as his father pulled his head out of the door. Kouichi heard him wander back downstairs, and wondered what he and Mom would be saying.

He yawned again, and decided he was too tired to fixate on that thought for now. He polished off the last of his food, then flipped the light switch off and crawled into his old bed. It was a little too short, and not as comfortable as the bed from his apartment, but he could deal with that.

It was the least he could do now, Kouichi mused, drifting away into slumber.

oOoOo

The next day, Kouichi saw Nedzu along with Aizawa on the path leading up to U.A. From a distance, the principal seemed to be explaining something at length to a politely interested Aizawa, but as Kouichi walked closer he turned as though he knew Kouichi was approaching. "Good morning, Haimawari! Aizawa and I were discussing the content of your campus tour last night. It sounds like it was a fruitful learning experience!" The principal greeted Kouichi with his usual pep.

Kouichi bent into a quick bow. "It was interesting," he said. "I've always wanted to see this place from the inside. Kind of tiring, though."

Aizawa glared at Kouichi, and the young man's skin crawled.

"Plenty of people would throw their lives away to visit this school, Haimawari, and you're one of the lucky ones who can," Aizawa said. "Don't complain. It's demeaning to all the people who can't be here."

"On probation?" Kouichi asked, before he could stop himself.

Aizawa looked irritated for a moment, but settled down. "Regardless of your reasons for being here, there's a lot we'll be expecting you to learn working with us. The more you complain about things you can't change, the less time you'll have to improve yourself."

Maybe that was a good point, Kouichi thought. Three years was a long time to complain.

"Putting all of that aside, shall we head inside?" Nedzu asked. "There are tests I'd like to run and people waiting on us."

He clambered up Aizawa's leg and used the arm that Aizawa held before himself as a platform to hop up to the man's shoulder. It amazed Kouichi how easily he'd done it – and how Eraserhead hadn't objected at all.

Aizawa walked toward the doors, and Kouichi fell in line just behind him. At the U.A. Barrier, Aizawa and Nedzu passed through without incident, and entered a quick passcode to keep it open for Kouichi.

"It might take a while for the system to authorize you, Haimawari," Nedzu said. "Until then, just ask someone to let you in."

They walked underneath a line of metal arches leading up to the main building. Even the way U.A. towered over everything, reflecting light from its glass exterior, seemed heroic. Kouichi had no trouble believing that this was the academy where legends were made.

"…for the most part should follow traditional high school curriculums," the principal lectured from his place on Eraserhead's shoulder. "As long as your performance at high school and university was decent, keeping up with the material shouldn't provide a challenge. Make sure to ask each of the teachers for a syllabus outlining assignments, and perhaps do some studying ahead of the class, so you're prepared…"

They passed through the doors, and Kouichi waited until a brief lull in the principal's speech before speaking. "Excuse me? Who did you say is waiting on us? There's nobody here." The halls were bright with the morning sun, but Kouichi saw no one else around aside from the three of them. "It's Sunday, right? So there shouldn't be students here today."

Aizawa gave him an incredulous glance. "If that's all the intelligence you can muster, then you'd be better off leaving before you embarrass yourself in front of the students."

"Aizawa, that's enough," Nedzu chided. He turned back toward Kouichi. "Before we begin educating you on your duties as an assistant, it's important that we familiarize you with the teachers you'll be working with. Today we're going to introduce everyone to everyone else and see where opinions stand. From there, you can spend the next months getting to know them on a more personal level before the new school year begins." Nedzu smiled expectantly. "Does that sound like a good idea?"

Kouichi was only half-listening, hung up as he was on what Nedzu had told him. "I'm… going to meet the other Heroes?" He asked, his voice wavering. "That's, uh, kind of sudden, isn't it? I mean, I've only just gotten here and—"

"You'll be fine," Nedzu assured him. "Heroes or not, they're all good people like you. I'm sure you and them will get along perfectly well in no time."

Aizawa pushed open a door leading back outside. Sprawled out in the distance, still some ways down the path, was the training field constructed like a massive walled city. Even from far away, Kouichi could see that the gate was already open.

"But before you meet anyone, Haimawari, I have something else in mind," the principal said. "I'm acquainted with your exploits from the news, but I'd like to witness your abilities firsthand. I've prepared a test within the Replica City-District, one that I believe will serve that purpose nicely.

"It's nothing you need to fear—" The principal added, noting Kouichi's look of distress. "—there are no penalties attached to this. I'd simply like for you to set the bar for yourself going forward. It should help you as much as it helps us."

As they came to a stop before the replica city, a whole cityside seemingly uprooted and replanted in the middle of the campus, Kouichi remembered something from his high school days. Some of his classmates had bragged about taking the U.A. entrance exam; they talked about fighting robots in a huge fake city, competing for glory against a hundred other candidates.

This must have been that city. It was even more gigantic than they'd claimed.

And this was where U.A. _started_?

Kouichi's stomach trembled. "What exactly happens if I fail this test?" He asked. "Will I be sent straight to jail?"

"Not at all!" The principal replied. "Honestly, this is a matter of curiosity more than an official test. Like I said, it's important that we all start with a solid handle on your capabilities. If you pass, that's wonderful, but if you fail, then you know you have more work to undertake. That's all." Nedzu turned to Aizawa. "Professor Aizawa, would you care to explain the test?"

Aizawa's shoulders seemed to heave in a silent sigh. "Alright, listen closely. If you miss anything, that's on you," he said. He held up three fingers. "There's three flags scattered around this city. Once a minute, we'll launch flares into the air to mark their locations. Find them all, pull off the cloth parts, and take them with you. When you have them all, get back to the entrance, and you're done."

That was simple, Kouichi thought. Almost… too simple, from what he'd heard.

"So, no robots?" He asked.

"If you want," Aizawa answered.

"No, no, that's fine!" Kouichi replied quickly.

He turned to the towering gate and felt his mind shift gears. From the sound of it, the principal had tailored this test to his Quirk – quick movement would be necessary to get to all of the flags, and skills in positioning would be required to see the telltale flares amidst the clustered buildings.

He'd handled much worse in the past. This would be a cakewalk.

"It seems you're already formulating a plan. That's good!" Principal Nedzu said. "Then let's begin posthaste."

Without any words shared between them, Aizawa leaped onto the ladder for the nearby observational tower, reaching almost a third of the way up in a single bound. He reached the top in a few more leaps, the principal staying on his shoulder as though bolted down.

If Kouichi hadn't seen feats like that before in person, he would have been impressed. Pros were clearly pros for good reason.

Nedzu's voice boomed down from the speakers in the tower. "Now then, begin!"

It was so sudden Kouichi couldn't make himself react. Didn't most of these tests have a countdown?

"Quit dawdling, Haimawari. You wouldn't have time in a real crisis!" Aizawa's voice joined the principal's. "Now move! The clock's ticking!"

"Right, crap!" Kouichi yelped. He sprinted through the gate into the big city, remembering after a moment to dive into a sliding stance. As he slid down the main street leading deeper into the city, Kouichi tilted his head up toward the sky. Through the buildings on each side and ahead of him, the visible sky shone down in a roughly rectangular shape, long in the direction Kouichi was traveling but narrow from left to right.

The replica city was a large battleground to operate within, as Kouichi remembered seeing it from the outside. Kouichi would need to use the flares to navigate its twisting streets, but he could only see a small portion of the sky from where he was. He needed to get up onto higher ground, where more of the sky was visible.

He spun to the left and right to look at the nearby buildings without losing speed, then turned left at the first intersection and continued investigating—ideally, for a few buildings arranged like steps that he could slide up easily.

Kouichi saw no buildings laid out in such a way. He accelerated, turning left, right, right, straight, left, and moving deeper into the city; there were shorter buildings Kouichi believed he could slide up, but the buildings beside each of them were too tall to climb afterward.

How long had it been since the test began? Eraserhead said the clock was ticking, so was Kouichi really being timed? The principal hadn't said anything about a time limit!

Kouichi shook his head. He couldn't afford to overthink things and stall himself out. He had to act, or he wouldn't pass the test.

He needed to get high enough to see the flares. The buildings around him were too high...

He swerved toward one of the shorter buildings—a shop, perhaps—in a sudden burst of speed. The wind sheared off him, and Kouichi barely felt it. He leaped before meeting the building, striking the side with both forearms and a knee, and redirected the momentum to force himself up along the exterior. He reached the edge of the flat roof in moments and shot past it, then threw himself awkwardly forward, catching the roof with one foot and stumbling onto it.

If the small building he'd climbed was a shop, the two buildings to Kouichi's left and right were skyscrapers; he didn't have a prayer of reaching the tops of either one. The tower to the right was closer, about eight feet away compared to the fifteen-foot distance to the left one.

Without warning, a loud shot whistled through the air. It came from nearby, but Kouichi couldn't pinpoint its direction. He was confused for a moment, but then it made sense.

The first flares had been fired. He had to move _._

Kouichi dropped onto his knees and _pushed_ himself toward the farther tower. His head jerked back, pain shocking through his neck as the sudden and rough acceleration overcame his Quirk's resistance to inertia. He forced his head back down as the tower filled his vision, and he leaped onto it and slid up the side for all he was worth.

As Kouichi ascended the skyscraper, he swung his head back and forth—toughing out the growing ache in his neck—to look for the flares. After about sixty feet of ascension, he began slowing down, at the same time spotting a vertical line of red smoke ending in a starburst a few streets to his right. The first flag was closer than he'd thought.

Kouichi's momentum finally failed, and he kicked off the tower before it stopped entirely—he would fall either way. He twisted himself so he could see the roof rushing up from below, and at the moment he struck it with all fours, he diverted his downward velocity to the side and turned his free fall into a slide. He pitched off the roof, and did the same upon hitting the ground below.

The remainder of both falls jarred his limbs down to the bone. Kouichi hoped that he hadn't damaged anything; even if he no longer had his secret identity to worry over, hospital visits would cause himself and his parents more problems than they were worth.

He took the next few turns and saw the flag: a red triangle of fabric hanging from the top of a thin pole embedded in the middle of the road. Kouichi cut off his slide and hobbled up to it, impeded by the pain in his legs. He tugged the cloth free of its Velcro bindings and slipped it into his pocket.

Then the building behind him exploded, and a robot lunged into the street from the ruins. It was around eight feet tall, larger than Kouichi by a fair amount, with four legs and a long neck and tail giving it the intimidating appearance of a snake and scorpion combined.

Its single red eye flashed. _"Intruder detected,"_ it spoke in a mechanical monotone. _"Surrender or be purged."_

Kouichi had already begun sliding away when it surged after him, rending the concrete with thick, scrambling legs. Panic drove away his plans, replacing them with a desperate need for escape from his pursuer.

He swerved left down the next large street, and two more robots burst from alleyways on each side. These robots each carried themselves on a single wheel, and had large arms covered in plating. They turned their red eyes upon Kouichi and uttered the same words as their brethren: _"Intruder detected. Surrender or be purged."_

Their wheels tore up the pavement as they sped toward Kouichi from both sides of the street, while behind him the four-legged robot rounded the corner and stampeded toward him as well.

Through the fight-or-flight instinct screaming noise in his head, Kouichi saw the gap between the two robots in front of him, the one growing narrower as the machines converged upon him. He shot forward, meeting the robots as the gap was nearly closed. They swung their arms in downward arcs, making metallic screeching sounds, but Kouichi flattened himself to the ground and the arms merely grazed his hoodie.

Kouichi sped away, but the robots turned on their wheels and gave chase, along with the scorpion robot that had been chasing him from the beginning.

As the pursuit continued, more robots joined the fray, and despite Kouichi's constant speed and his weaving through tight spaces, he couldn't shake them all. Some of them burst from the buildings or the ground, while others rounded corners as Kouichi came upon them or passed them by. He tried to climb a few of the buildings to escape, but the scorpion robots could climb as well, and they seemed hellbent on guiding him back toward the others to trap him.

They drove Kouichi deeper into the city, and yet he still found neither of the two remaining flags. A few times, he thought he heard flares going off in the distance, but the heat of the chase prevented his attention from straying too far.

The fact that Kouichi could slide pretty much forever didn't seem to make a difference this time, for the robots felt no fatigue as well. He'd didn't know how long the test had been running; the flares marked the minutes, but he'd lost count of them.

Wait… the flares marked the minutes…

Kouichi had an idea. The walls of panic fell away, and despite the legion of robots behind him, he'd regained control. He pushed himself forward, away from the cacophony of the robots behind him, and turned his attention to the sky, not to look but to listen for the telltale whistle of a flare.

After fifteen nerve-wracking, fast-paced seconds, he heard it somewhere to his left.

 _One, two, three, four…_ Kouichi counted the seconds, taking the next left turn he came across. A robot burst from the space between two buildings as Kouichi neared it, and he veered to the other side of the road.

 _Ten seconds._

The road ahead only turned to the right, but Kouichi strayed near the line of establishments to the left and thrust himself toward the building straight ahead. He scaled it and came up just short, then kicked off across the corner and used the spurt of momentum it provided to reach the roof of the building on the other side.

He slid into the middle of the rooftop and prepared to react.

… _Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…_

Kouichi heard the robots' legs digging into the walls before they rose over the edges of the building on his left and right. He spun around and slid away from them, leaping the gap to the building on the other side of the corner, then sliding to the far end of the building away from the robots.

He flattened himself against the roof as they scanned their surroundings, but it only bought him a few seconds at most before they screeched and raced toward him. They made the jump across the rooftops one at a time, but Kouichi quickly slid over to the right and leaped onto the rooftop slightly below him. He raced along that rooftop, then slid up the remainder of the next building to reach its top.

… _Forty-seven, forty-eight…_

Kouichi glanced back, watching the robots clamber across the rooftop one building behind. He still needed to move. He pitched off the rooftop, misjudging how low the next one was, and tumbled downward with a cry.

Kouichi twisted forward and landed painfully on his left shoulder, then rolled forward to absorb most of the impact, finishing in a low crouch. His shoulder screamed in a long, loud note of pain, forcing tears from Kouichi's eyes. This time, he thought, it might have broken.

How much time left? His shoulder hurt too much to let him think.

The rooftop shook as the first of the scorpion robots crashed down behind him. It raised its eye and screeched, a horrible grinding noise.

With his head bowed, Kouichi clenched his eyes shut and screamed through gritted teeth. This was supposed to be a new start, a chance to remake himself! So what if he didn't have to pass now? He didn't want to fail! He wanted to do things right, to make a good impression.

Still, he'd put up a pretty good chase. Maybe he could live with that…

Something whistled into the air, very close by. It forced open Kouichi's eyes and wiped his treasonous thoughts away. He twisted to the right and saw the rising pillar of smoke a short way down the street, tucked into a side road.

A new surge of energy rushed through him. He couldn't give up after all, not when his next step was so close! Forcing away the crying pain in his shoulder, Kouichi slapped his right palm against the rooftop and felt himself lift a few centimeters into the air once again.

The robot behind Kouichi reared up, but Kouichi had slipped out of its reach by the time it brought its front legs down onto the rooftop. He gripped the railing along the building's edge and flipped over without letting go, then with his feet and back against the building's side, released the railing and slid down.

Kouichi had attempted to slide down enough buildings to learn that it was a much different experience than sliding up them. Sliding up buildings, or anything for that matter, was a matter of using momentum to fight gravity—as long as he kept moving, his power would keep him pressed against the building. Of course, increasing his momentum while traveling straight up was difficult, which was why he endeavored to build it up before he reached his incline.

When sliding down, he wasn't fighting gravity but accompanying it, and unless Kouichi kept his balance and chose his path down well, he tended to pitch off the side and fall without anything to cling to. Moreover, with gravity pulling him down, he had to push himself back up the wall enough to slow his descent to something he could survive.

It was much more difficult to pull off, and Kouichi still hadn't figured it out completely, but it was a useful skill when he needed a safe descent from somewhere too high to risk a straight fall-and-slide. Thankfully, the segment of wall Kouichi had pressed himself against went between the windows and remained smooth down to the earth, and he slid slowly, carefully downward with only a slightly firm landing on his feet. He dropped to his knees and slid as he struck the ground, looking up and catching the last wisps of smoke being blown away.

That was all right. He knew the way now. He slid down the road and swerved into a narrow road off to the right, sandwiched between two buildings. The second flag waited there, flapping the darkness in the middle of the road.

Kouichi's stomach jumped for joy as he moved into the passage.

Then the building to his left exploded.

Kouichi fell backward, more from shock than the force of the explosion. His ears rang, and his eyes burned from the dust and rubble caught in them. He rubbed his sleeve furiously against his eyes and blinked them clear, and then groaned at the sight of his next sudden hurdle.

The robot between him and the flag was much larger than either of the other two robot types Kouichi had encountered thus far. Standing twelve feet tall by Kouichi's estimate, it rested on two massive tires the likes of which were used by monster trucks, and it carried a pair of missile launchers on its shoulders that forced it into a hunched position, allowing its massive arms to reach the ground in front of it.

It was wide enough to scrape against both buildings on the side of the road, and Kouichi knew that going around it would be difficult even without any resistance on its part.

His thoughts were interrupted when the robot's eye flashed like the others' and it boomed, _"INTRUDER DETECTED. SURRENDER OR BE PURGED."_ The containers on its shoulders opened, and the missiles inside fired themselves one after another, all of them streaking behind smoke and darting toward Kouichi.

Thinking quickly, Kouichi forced himself into the passageway. The first two missiles flew over him and exploded against the ground at the entrance where he'd been. The noise was loud, but he didn't feel any heat or force at his back. Not real missiles, then. Small mercies.

The next few missiles had the advantage of being early enough in their flight path to track Kouichi, and he was forced to slide from side to side to keep away from them. Their explosions battered his ears into a ringing within seconds—apparently, tinnitus at twenty-two was an issue for college rock stars _and_ Heroes, as if Kouichi didn't have enough issues already.

The robot's arms spread out to the side as Kouichi drew closer, covering and blocking off the spaces between itself and the walls of the passageway. Kouichi gritted his teeth; the robot was already too solid for him to slide underneath or through it, and now going around wasn't an option either. Going over was all that remained, and Kouichi doubted that it would allow him to climb onto it or vault off its shoulders.

Unless…

The robot fired another salvo of missiles. Kouichi pressed himself against the ground and egged himself on, changing several hits into mere close calls. The missiles struck behind him, and this time tey exploded with a series of sonic bursts that even the ringing in Kouichi's ears couldn't muffle entirely, as well as a rush of sonic force that propelled Kouichi forward; he rode it toward the right wall of the passageway, then leaped, twisting his body midair to bring his knees into contact with the wall along with his right hand.

With his own momentum and what was added by the shock wave, Kouichi slid up the wall—as well as forward, over the robot's wide wall of a hand. He saw the flag sticking out of the street, barely eight feet behind the robot. Just a little further, and it was all his.

The massive robot turned its head toward Kouichi slightly and swung its hand upward to catch him, but Kouichi forced himself up the wall another couple of feet, gaining a slight cushion of space that was just enough for him to slide past the hand as they reached the same level.

Even so, the hand dug into the wall and sent it shaking, and Kouichi found himself jarred off the wall and tumbling back toward the ground. As he rushed toward the ground, there was no time to turn his injured shoulder away from the street. He grimaced and veered forward upon contact, diverting most of the painful momentum but still putting a lot of weight on his shoulder.

Pain exploded through Kouichi's shoulder again, and he screamed. Propelled by pain and instinct, Kouichi jumped forward, flailing his right arm around until it grabbed something and yanked it down: the second flag. He held onto it for dear life, trying and failing to drive the pain out of his mind as he streaked down the remainder of the road and into the main streets.

The big robot didn't follow him; it probably couldn't turn around to give chase. Kouichi stopped his power and tried to stand, but a sudden throb of pain cut through his shoulder, sending him back down to his knees with a groan. He gripped his wounded arm with his other arm, still palming the second flag. His breath came heavy, and he gulped down air like he'd forgotten to breathe in the chaos.

Eventually, when the pain in his arm had dulled, Kouichi stood up on shaky legs and scanned the streets. The buildings still towered and casted shadows over him, but he saw no more robots patrolling the streets. The large missile-wielding robot behind him had gone still, not even twitching. Its power had evidently been cut.

Kouichi's stomach turned. Something wasn't right—the city was too still, as though the test had concluded, when he didn't yet have the three flags he needed to pass. (And had he missed a flare? He hadn't noticed.)

He turned to make his way down the street, a bit lost. After a few dozen feet, the ground and the buildings began to shake. Farther into the city, a series of loud crashes caused the windows of all the nearby buildings to flex. Kouichi stumbled around, looking to the sky in alarm.

What else could come next?

oOoOo

" _Pardon me, Principal Nedzu,"_ The radio at the top of the observational tower squawked. _"But isn't this sort of cruel?"_

" _Not at all,"_ came another voice. _"Better we wring him out now and get a sense for what he's got instead of keeping him on his ass."_

" _No one's arguing that, King, but he doesn't look like he's got much fight left in him. He could endanger his life if he keeps going,"_ said a third voice.

" _The boss n' Eraserhead read the kid his rights. He don't gotta do anythin' he don't wanna, but he's gotta make that call fer himself."_

" _Snipe is right. We need to witness Haimawari's abilities before anything else. It was the same for the rest of us."_

" _But we've already seen what he's capable of—he was The Crawler. So isn't this redundant?"_

"A better question would be, what does the principal think?" Eraserhead spoke into the radio. "This whole thing was his idea, and he's the one who was supposed to answer anyway."

Nedzu, as though prompted, hopped from Eraserhead's shoulder onto his forearm and sat there, closer to the radio. "Yes, it's true that we could obtain an understanding of Haimawari's capabilities through his vigilante activity. However, as most of those accounts are secondhand or mere hearsay, it wouldn't be practical to figure out what carries any truth and what does not. On the other hand, a live testing in a controlled environment allows for much more thorough and reliable testimony. Speaking of which, are the cameras working alright in there?"

" _They're fine, but it seems a few of the ones built into the buildings went down."_

" _Haimawari's performing better than I expected, barring those injuries. His reactions and his basic understanding of his Quirk are solid. He must've had plenty of time honing himself on the streets."_

"It's an intriguing subject, isn't it?" Nedzu asked, his eyes gleaming. "Vigilantes—those whose Quirk usage falls outside the law—are so often dismissed as criminals without having any attention paid to the development of their Quirks. Their learning environments and processes are so different from those of high school students, and that makes them a woefully undocumented field in the studies of Quirk development and application. Take Haimawari, for instance. Judging by his performance so far, I'd place him at roughly equivalent to a freshman in their second or third semester. He's developed precise control of his Quirk's basic functions through operation within hazardous parameters, but despite three years of activity, he has yet to develop past that rudimentary level. I wonder…"

As the principal's true tangent began, Eraserhead studied Haimawari through the monitors set up before him. With only two flags, the ex-vigilante looked a bit worse for the wear as he clutched his left shoulder and whirled around looking for the source of the tremors. This last stretch might prove somewhat outside his skill level, but the test so far hadn't been any harder than the one the applicants would take before the start of the year. With the competitive aspect removed, it might have even been a bit easier.

But Haimawari Kouichi had proven superior thus far to mere applicants, so it was only appropriate that the challenge rose to match him. It wouldn't be fair to anyone if he received an easy ride.

Eraserhead watched the gigantic robot emerge from the middle of the city and tower among the skyscrapers, and he eagerly anticipated Haimawari's response.

oOoOo

Kouichi's hope crumbled when he reached the top of the building and saw the robot: deep green like the others, six lenses for eyes, and _absolutely gigantic_. None of the buildings around it even came up to its shoulders—except for the skyscrapers, which were merely swatted to pieces like the cardboard buildings from a Godzilla film. Kouichi had always been fascinated by the kaiju from those movies, but facing such a thing in reality was an entirely different experience.

The machine hadn't seemed to notice him yet despite the view its size granted it, for it rolled down the city's main street on bus-sized tank treads that ground the streets with such force that Kouichi could hear the concrete being crushed from several blocks away. After a few seconds of being watched in dumbfounded silence, a flare fired into the air from atop the robot, right behind its head.

Kouichi didn't need too much brainpower to realize what that meant.

At once, he felt yet again like the world was having a good time beating on him.

That was… what could he even do against a monster like that? What did they _expect_ him to do?! Were they telling him that he didn't belong at U.A., that he should give up and leave? That couldn't be. Ectoplasm and Principal Nedzu said they believed in him, and he trusted them. Maybe they were testing his willingness to throw in the towel when things looked bleak. Kouichi had seen it; sometimes Heroes weren't able to do anything in a situation, and they had to fall back or bide their time and wait for help.

That made sense. Kouichi couldn't imagine the principal actively wanting him to throw himself into places where he would only hurt himself. He'd probably receive some credit if he returned to the main entrance with only two flags. He didn't need to do perfectly—the principal had said as such before. But he did need to finish this test with his life. That was sort of an important thing to remember.

With that thought in mind, Kouichi made his way back down and slid through the streets toward the main road that led to the front gate. The grinding and crushing sounds made by the robot grew louder as Kouichi came closer, and Kouichi realized that if he ended up ahead of the robot, there would be something of a chase to avoid being run over.

His limbs hurt, more from repeated forceful shocks than fatigue. His left shoulder still burned, making that arm waver. Kouichi knew his limits, and he knew he wasn't in the shape to face down a monstrosity like that robot.

He wondered what Knuckle-Duster would think of him. Probably pick him up and haul him back toward the danger, chewing him out all the way. Then he'd put Kouichi down, put on that wicked grin that Kouichi still remembered so well, and charge straight into the fray. Fists would fly, faces would be battered, and Knuckle-Duster would have a blast all the way through.

Then, after the robot's violent disassembly, Knuckle-Duster would take off in search of more villains to pummel. Each victory would energize his bloodlust even further in a cycle only breakable by the utter absence of enemies to take down. Of course, Kouichi would have been by his side the whole time, either because the old man had dragged him around or because he'd followed him for who-even-knew-why.

No. Kouichi's time with Knuckle-Duster had taught him much and shown him a role he never knew he could act within, but his master had died in the line of duty. Kouichi had no desire to follow him so soon. He wasn't like the old man, acting without the vaguest understanding of a survival instinct.

And yet, as Kouichi slid out onto the main street, with the colossal machine rolling toward him from the right and the city's gate way down the road to the left, he couldn't make the turn toward freedom. His arms twitched as though paralyzed as he drifted idly into the middle of the road. The robot batted down the top half of a skyscraper in a cacophony of shattering glass and steel, and it fell into the road with a final crash that Kouichi felt in his bones.

Kouichi saw the building's bent steel frame, and the way it pointed up toward the colossus that had felled it. Anyone observing what happened next would have believed that Kouichi had taken hold of the shreds of courage within himself and used them to propel himself toward the fallen building and the giant mechanoid behind it, letting out a wild battle cry to ignite his spirit and gain the robot's attention.

In reality, Kouichi was as surprised as anyone when his body moved on its own toward the fallen building. The robot heard his horrified screams and registered his presence, reaching toward him with its mighty left hand.

oOoOo

" _What the hell is he doing?! Does he have a death wish?"_

" _Shit, that kid's nuts! We'll hafta scrape him off that thing!"_

" _Principal, he's going to kill himself! Do something!"_

Eraserhead's eyes widened as Haimawari bum-rushed the zero-point robot in an apparent suicide-or-glory attack. After seeing how he'd fared so far, Eraserhead had every expectation that Haimawari would either remain hidden and look for a route leading up the robot's back, or else cut his losses and take the failure with two flags. Pretty much everyone did—including Nedzu, who had traded the excitement in his eyes for grave sobriety.

The situation had suddenly evolved from an intriguing test to an impending disaster. It was a shame; had Haimawari been in better condition, Eraserhead would have been quite impressed with his actions.

Moving without the need for instruction, Aizawa struck the button for the intercity intercoms. "Haimawari, the test is over! That's enough! Stand down!"

oOoOo

Kouichi shot up the steel frame of the building's tip and launched off like it was a ramp, aiming for the hand that at the same time extended toward him. The distance between the two dropped like a stone, and the hand filled Kouichi's vision and blotted out the sky save for the space between its fingers.

The apex of Kouichi's jump brought him sailing toward two of the massive metal digits, and he struck the part of the hand between them. Ignoring the pain that tore through his shoulder, he slapped his palms against the back of the robot's hand and, using his torso as the third point of contact, slid up onto it.

The robot stared at him from high above, almost as though even it couldn't believe what just happened.

Kouichi only allowed himself an instant's reprieve before moving up the arm. He leaped toward the seam where the forearm met the elbow and ducked into it as the robot's other arm swatted down atop him. In the space between the palm and the inside of the elbow, the vibrations were wild and shook Kouichi to his bones, pain lancing through his already worn body. The sudden pressure made his ears pop, and Kouichi winced as the sounds blanketing him grew dull.

The hand drew away from the crevice, and Kouichi fled up the robot's bicep. He barely made it to the robot's shoulder before his momentum gave, and he yanked himself up next to the head of the colossus—the adrenaline fully drowning his agonized shoulder. The robot jerked back and forth, unable to turn its head to see him, and Kouichi gripped a nearby ridge in its plating to avoid falling. From this height, he could see well beyond the boundaries of the testing site; his eyes fell upon U.A., still gleaming from a hundred feet in the air.

That would be his reward. He was so close now.

Kouichi flung himself at the head of the monster and scaled it easily. The flag stood proud nearby, above the robot's eyes. He lunged for it, triumph swelling in his chest, and ripped it from the pole.

And as his foot came down, the colossus tilted forward and Kouichi's ankle twisted. Excitement turned to panic as he struck his side against the metal and rolled toward the edge—and then off.

As the surface beneath Kouichi gave way to air, his hand came down upon the edge of the colossus' head and he grabbed it so hard his knuckles threatened to split his skin. He dangled in front of the robot's six red eyes, all blinking at a panicked pace.

With the flag taking up most of his hand, Kouichi could only keep his fingertips on the lip of the machine's head. And the sweat was making them slip. Bringing up his other arm to grab ahold was a risk he couldn't afford, as long as twisting to do so meant his fingers might slide. He flexed his palm, trying to free the flag from his grasp, but it wouldn't move.

The robot's servos groaned, and its head lifted upward slowly.

After a few moments, it was enough to make Kouichi slip.

The air whipped past him as he began the long fall to the concrete below, while the sky above taunted him, vast and distant.

Heroes lived within that sky. They were looked up toward, and seemed to possess infinite might and valor. Their struggles and growth were an enigma to anyone who hadn't suffered along the same path. They lived among the sky.

And that sky flew further away by the moment.

Kouichi's mouth was open, but he wasn't sure if he was screaming or what was coming out. Sound came through his pressurized ears and was dampened along the path to his brain. He prayed in thought to God in Heaven, to Buddha, to any other god both listening and merciful for salvation.

He wanted to be a Hero. He'd bear the title with pride and exemplify it to his dying breath, if only he lived!

The impact was hard, and much sooner than Kouichi expected. Finally, he'd had too much.

The world turned black.

oOoOo

"… _That was too close."_

" _Is Haimawari alive?"_

" _He's fine. The robot's picking up his life signals."_

The principal heaved a sigh of relief. "Excellent, we caught him," he said, looking up at the image of the giant robot cupping Haimawari's unconscious form in its palm. A moment slower, and it would have failed to catch him. He spoke into the microphone, "The rescue drones will arrive in a moment. Recovery Girl, I'm entrusting you to him."

" _I'll take care of him from here,"_ Recovery Girl's voice came through.

The colossus lowered Haimawari to the road, allowing a small drone to pluck him from its grasp and place him on a stretcher carried by two others. He was ferried away in short order.

Aizawa ran a hand down his face. Haimawari had acted rashly and taken a stupid risk that nearly got him killed; it was the kind of debacle that Aizawa suspended students for. "What's our play here, principal?" He asked. "He got the flags, but failed to return to the entrance. Does that count as him passing? I'm sure he'll want an answer when he wakes up."

Nedzu smiled. "As arbitrary as a passing grade is in this circumstance, I believe it does. After all, the purpose of this exercise was to ascertain Haimawari Kouichi's level of performance and gain a better understanding of his Quirk's capabilities and his usage of it. After the show he put on for us, I don't believe that's in question any longer." The principal's smile became rueful. "Besides, I'm certain he'll appreciate the good news when he wakes up believing he's failed here today. I'll confess that I wasn't expecting him to face the zero-point robot head-on."

"I don't think anyone was," Aizawa said. "We need to keep a closer eye on the kid. He'll kill himself if he keeps pulling stunts like that."

"Yes, it seems we've found something else to teach him," Nedzu agreed. "However! We are nothing if not teachers, correct?" The principal hopped onto Aizawa's shoulder. "And furthermore, that ambition that Haimawari demonstrated today was a shining example to follow! Perhaps it originates from a desire to prove himself to a teacher or a mentor. He mentioned having a master who taught him how to operate as a vigilante; perhaps he would be willing to discuss their interactions in further detail…"

The principal's train of thought didn't miss a single stop as Aizawa bounded down the tall ladder with Nedzu riding on his shoulder. The homeroom teacher of Class 1-A listened to the lecture with one part of his brain, and committed the rest to pondering the unknown variable that was Haimawari Kouichi.

The corners of his lips curled up in the shadow of a smile. The coming months, and perhaps years, would be the start to a potentially very interesting time.


	6. Steps

**Alright, I think I owe some apologies.**

 **It was never my intent to spend this long on something ultimately so short, but frankly I had trouble for a while, and even now there's some content from this chapter that I put off until the next one just to get this out. It shouldn't affect the narrative too much.**

 **I try not to spend so long on chapters unless I'm writing something big, but the way I do things these days means there's going to be gaps between updates. I apologize for that, but I've got other things to do, and writing this isn't always on the front of my mind. Hopefully it still works out well.**

 **So since I've procrastinated this long already, here you go.**

 **Chapter Five**

 **Steps**

"Haimawari, our assumption when we brought you on was that you wouldn't keep ending up here," Aizawa said as he stepped through the infirmary door. He spotted Kouichi lying in the first bed on the right and wandered over with a glare in his eyes. "You'll just be a liability if you keep hurting yourself on these stupid stunts and forcing Recovery Girl to take care of you. You need to _think_ about what you're capable of."

Kouichi chuckled sheepishly and winced as he shifted and his aching shoulder flared up. "I know, I'm sorry I scared everybody. I'm not really sure what happened myself," he said. "I just…got to thinking about what my master would have done, and how much I wanted this, and well…" The look in his eyes became distant. "I didn't even realize what I was doing when I started doing it. I didn't have time to stop myself before I was on top of the robot, and I didn't exactly have many choices at that point."

"Mmm. So your body moved without you realizing it? Is that what you're telling me?" Aizawa asked, giving him a look of scrutiny.

Kouichi shrugged. "I don't know how else to explain it. It was like…one of those stories from the Golden Age." He smiled. "You know, the kind that the old legends used to tell? I thought it would be nice to have just one amazing story like that to keep for myself, even if it meant failing the test."

Aizawa sighed—the remnants of an aborted groan. It was always annoying having to deal with people's romantic views of the "old days", when times had changed so much since then. With the relative absence of villains in those days, Heroes usually dedicated themselves strictly to helping civilians in the face of prejudice and persecution; experiences once only dreamed of through comic books and movies.

The world was one thing, but criminals and villains were another matter. The most stalwart and capable Heroes were leaves in the wind when faced with the human element—flaws leading to greed and corruption in even the best people. Heroes and people had adapted to the changing world, and the blind idealism of old didn't hold up anymore.

Even All Might wouldn't stand forever.

Aizawa shook his thoughts away and focused on Haimawari before him. "The principal told you that it made no difference whether you passed or failed, Haimawari. You knew this going in, and you still acted like an idiot," he said, glowering. "It distracts us from our jobs if we need to keep taking care of you. Do you think someone will just come to your aid every time you need them?"

Kouichi flinched back into the mattress. "Well, yeah, I mean, I get that," he sputtered. "But I figured I needed to hurry, with the time limit—"

"The time limit didn't matter. It was only included to test your abilities under pressure," Aizawa cut him off. "You could have spent hours in that test, and the only thing we would have known was that you were _undoubtedly_ trying to waste our time."

"…I don't think that's fair," Kouichi muttered, his fear and disappointment sharpening into a blade. "I did what you told me to do, didn't I? You lied to me and pulled me around, but I still did what you said, even though it almost killed me!" He snapped through gritted teeth. "The least you could do is say you're sorry for what happened to me!"

Aizawa's eyes widened, practically glowing as the simmering fury within them boiled. His hair rose upward and straightened into tight peaks. "Coddling you is not our job, Haimawari. If you don't like our methods, either find a way to live with them or leave."

Kouichi flinched but forced himself not to cede ground. "I don't want to go to prison."

"Then suck it up, like the high schoolers we come here every day to teach."

"Do you lie to them, too?"

"You think the world's going to treat you any better?" Aizawa growled. "This isn't some story where justice always prevails and the heroes live forever. It's reality. Heroes die, people die, and it's all a mess. If you can't deal with that—"

"Don't talk to me about people dying!" Kouichi snapped, forcing himself to sit up. "I lost Knuckle-Duster! He gave me a chance, taught me how to fight, and gave me the strength to get out there and help people! He was my master, and he died! I'm not a starry-eyed—"

"Your master was a criminal who threw himself and you into situations that neither of you had any business being in. He was violent and blinded by his need for personal pleasure," Aizawa said, forbidding Kouichi a chance to retort. "You have my condolences for his loss, but that's not how we do things here. When we tell you to act, we expect you to do it right—don't make a scene, don't pull anyone else into your mess, and don't get yourself killed. If you want to remain here, you _will_ learn to operate like us—the real Heroes."

The look in his eyes became withering, forcing Kouichi back down into his bed.

The quieter part of Kouichi's mind, the angry one that had been taking control more often these days, demanded that he stand up and defend his late master. So what if he hadn't fit the mold of a Hero? He'd been a Hero to Kouichi, and everyone else helped by him, and wasn't that what mattered. What right did Aizawa or anyone else have to disparage his memory?

The part of his mind that knew better—sometimes begrudgingly—reminded him of Ectoplasm, and his probing questions about the old man. He'd looked concerned in a way Kouichi hadn't expected to see when he'd heard Kouichi's description of his former training, been so quick to say that things would be different in U.A. _A test of the body and the mind._

Knuckle-Duster had been neither weak nor a fool, but Kouichi couldn't picture him alongside the proper Heroes of society; people who cared about helping others more than about their next fight. His code of conduct held too sharp a contrast next to theirs.

And so Kouichi, who'd been built and broken by that code, had a lot to relearn.

"Hmm, the atmosphere in here feels rather tense," came a sudden voice from the infirmary doorway. Aizawa and Kouichi turned and bowed as Principal Nedzu plodded in and climbed onto the bed next to the one Kouichi rested upon. "Greetings to both of you. Haimawari, was your rest to satisfaction?" He asked.

Kouichi nodded. Nedzu's timing couldn't have been better; he didn't want to know where his talk with Aizawa would have gone if the principal hadn't appeared. "Yeah, I woke up maybe an hour ago," he said. He twisted his left arm, wincing at an ache in his shoulder that was admittedly much more bearable than before. "I'm still a little sore, but I feel a lot better than I thought I would. Aizawa said Recovery Girl was in here with me again?"

The principal nodded. "Yes, that's correct! You lost consciousness after the zero-point robot broke your fall, and Recovery Girl had you brought here for healing." The mouse-like creature pointed to Kouichi's once-injured shoulder. "She fixed your broken shoulder with ease, and tended to the abrasions in your wrists, ankles, and knees as well. She's truly a marvel, isn't she? This academy couldn't function as it does without her on our staff!"

"Principal, Haimawari and I were discussing the test," Aizawa said. He shot Kouichi a stern look. "Along with his conduct toward the end. Anything you'd care to contribute?"

"Well, I'm certain you would have said all that needed to be said regarding Haimawari's actions, Aizawa, so I think we can skip most of that," Nedzu replied. "Did you tell him that he passed the test yet?"

Kouichi sat up. "Wait, I did?" He asked. "But I didn't finish. I was supposed to get back to the gate, wasn't I?"

"I was coming around to that," Aizawa said. He turned back toward Kouichi. "The principal decided that despite your failure to meet the requirements, your performance during the test fulfilled its purpose anyway. We wanted to see what you could do, and you demonstrated a…decent enough understanding of your own ability to justify a passing grade."

Aizawa turned on his heel and strode out of the infirmary. "Don't let it go to your head," he tossed over his shoulder as a farewell.

With Aizawa gone, Kouichi turned to Nedzu and bowed in his bed. "Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Principal," he said. He was relieved—failing wouldn't have changed much, as Nedzu had insisted, but he still felt better about his performance now.

Nedzu turned back to Kouichi and looked him in the eye. His smile never slipped, but something in his gaze told Kouichi to listen and listen good. "Along with Aizawa's criticisms, I'll say this: what you did today was impressive, Haimawari, but foolhardiness would not be your friend in a genuine battle. Even if your body moved of its own accord on this occasion, please take care to think your actions through the rest of the time. All right?"

"Yes, Mr. Principal," Kouichi said. "So what happens now? I don't think I can leave until Recovery Girl gives me the all clear."

"Oh, you definitely can't. She'd be furious if you tried," Nedzu said. He hopped up onto the bed from his seated position and walked toward the end. "Now that the test is over, I feel compelled to tell you that the rest of U.A.'s staff was watching from afar. Needless to say, they have a few different perspectives regarding your performance."

The principal leaped onto the floor and landed cleanly, then walked over to Kouichi's bed and climbed onto it. He stood at the end of it, facing Kouichi with his hands clasped behind his back. "I was going to take you to meet them, but it wouldn't do to move you right now. Would you object to waiting for Recovery Girl and then coming with me to meet them?"

The principal smiled, as if there was nothing unusual at all about that offer. Even as Kouichi's responding stare lengthened to minutes, the principal's smile didn't waver an inch. Clearly, this was a choice that Nedzu meant for Kouichi alone to make.

The idea bothered Kouichi less than he would have thought; it was still intimidating, the idea of meeting a whole gaggle of famous Heroes, but the few of them he'd already met seemed like supportive people, if only in their own way. Besides, he'd be spending the next few years around them, so better he came to know them now over later.

And maybe he was just tired. That would explain some things as well.

"Alright, I'll meet them," Kouichi said, putting a smile onto his face.

Principal Nedzu clapped his paws together. "Excellent! In the meantime, I've been devising some new theories regarding the development of Quirks in vigilantes in response to your performance and overall situation. Give me just a moment to fetch some tea, and then I hope the two of us can have some meaningful discussions about your activities over the past few years," he said, sliding down from Kouichi's bed and making his way to the door. He slid it open a crack and slipped out.

Now that he was alone, Kouichi collapsed into his bed as the full weight of the day struck him at once. What had he done so far? Been tested by world-class Heroes and technically met expectations, gotten into a fight with Eraserhead that he didn't feel like he'd won, and now he'd agreed to meet with those world-class Heroes, all of whom would doubtless possess some very strong opinions regarding his performance and possibly his very presence.

He ran a hand down his face. All that was enough to make him feel like sleeping for a week, and it wasn't even _lunch._ How on Earth did the pros pull it off? Maybe there was some secret way to pump coffee through your veins instead of blood that only the pros knew. Surely if he spent enough time working here, someone would let him in on it. Otherwise, Kouichi wasn't sure he'd have the capability to keep up.

When Nedzu returned with tea, Kouichi prodded him a bit for the secret. The principal merely smiled and said, "It's a labor of love, Haimawari. A good educator must have a passion to hand their knowledge down, and the resolve to see it through." Upon viewing Kouichi's crestfallen look, the principal chuckled. "You'll be fine, Haimawari. You have plenty of time to learn. Start with what you can do, and take as many steps as you need." Nedzu sipped his tea and added, "The greatest accomplishments in the world were made the same way."

And for the next hour, as Nedzu presented his theories and prompted Kouichi for further information as needed, and as Kouichi absorbed Nedzu's words and considered their meaning, Kouichi almost felt that learning wouldn't be so difficult after all. When Recovery Girl returned and gave Kouichi clearance to leave (but not to strain himself or use his Quirk in any way), he followed his new principal out of the infirmary a little more composed than before.

 **So as the end of this chapter implies, next chapter Kouichi meets the Heroes of U.A., and then we get a nice montage of scenes from the next six months a la Midoriya's training, and then we're at the start of the school year. They're smaller scenes, so hopefully they'll be easier to write. I've learned not to get my hopes up, though.**

 **I'll see you when I see you. Until then!**

 **Tomorrow's Hero, signing out.**


End file.
